


Five Years Later (Bring Your Love To Me)

by nimiumcaelo



Series: Five Years Later [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (well he is dead at the start of this), (yay!), Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Chilton gets a dog, Chilton is in a Wheelchair, Disabled Character, Divorce, Dogs, Dr. Frederick Chilton Lives, Eventual Happy Ending, Extremely Slow Burn, Forgiveness, Freddie Lounds is a Bitch and I Love Her For It, Friends to Almost Lovers to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Hannibal Lecter Dies, Happy Ending Not In This Part, Healing, I promise, M/M, NO MOLLY BASHING, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Divorce, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, References to ABBA, Scars, Slow Burn, So Many Dogs, Therapy, Vegan Chilton, Wheelchairs, Will and Molly are getting a divorce, references to violence, sorry lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: DR. FREDERICK CHILTON survived getting burned alive with his lips torn off. Countless surgeries and five years later, he is about as healed as he will ever be, physically. He lost the ability to walk, but the skin grafts took and he avoided quite a lot of scarring. All in all, he looks mostly normal, if you discount the twenty locks on his bedroom door and the new guard dog he acquired.WILL GRAHAM survived the Fall with Hannibal. He went with Dr. Lecter to Cuba, where he finally finished his plan to gain Hannibal's trust. Three years after the Fall, he shot Hannibal in the back of the head and returned, triumphant but weary, to America and his family. For the past two years, he has been living in Virginia, avoiding the FBI and his old friends as much as possible.That is, until he calls Chilton one night out of the blue and tells him he's getting a divorce from Molly.
Relationships: Dr. Frederick Chilton/Will Graham, Molly Graham/Will Graham
Series: Five Years Later [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936519
Comments: 22
Kudos: 41





	1. Hole in the Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chilton freaks out and drinks way too much wine.

Five years.

Five years of waking up shaking and sweaty; five years of panic when someone stood behind him in the checkout line; five years of trying to unlearn Hannibal Lecter, Abel Gideon, Francis Dolarhyde.

Forty had slid into forty-two, three, four, five. He still wasn’t confident enough to let the grey show in his hair, but it snuck into his beard enough to call it even.

Miraculously, and certainly against Dolarhyde's wishes, he hadn’t ended up too ugly, after all. ([x](https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-wales-north-east-wales-27245613)) He’d been put into an induced coma for several months, undergone hundreds of procedures, and spent a good deal of his time either slathered in lotions and disinfectants or in a mask.  
Still, he’d survived.

Most of the scarring was along his limbs. It twisted pale and rope-like around and around like a poisonous vine. Thankfully, his face had been spared enough that makeup covered most of the burn scars and his beard covered the awkward way his new lips fit onto his cheeks.

The one thing that hadn’t been saved was his ability to walk. It was a small thing, really, to move from using a cane to a chair, but it felt like the biggest difference in the world.

He was angry; he was furious. What had he done, really, to warrant this outcome? Why did Jack Crawford get to play with fire but he was the one to get burnt? (Forgive the pun.) It nearly tore him up inside, his rage did.

But, then, he got tired. He got older. Weeks went by, months, years. He forgot his rage and somehow it forgot him, too. Who had time to be angry when the dishes needed doing?

He’d sold his house to pay for much of the surgeries and later accommodations. It had too many staircases and it was too large for him now. Emptiness meant space for hiding. His new house was smaller, crowded with knick-knacks, with about twenty different locks on each door. He’d also gotten a dog, a Rottweiler, who was sweet but fierce when she was needed.

No one heard from Will Graham until halfway through year three, when a newspaper in Cuba ran a headline describing the murder of one Hannibal Lecter, who’d been presumed dead. He had been shot once, in the back of the head. His body was found intact, lying in the bed he’d died in. Chilton knew he wasn’t the only one who let out a breath at the knowledge that Will performed the act so clinically.

Since then, it had been generally assumed that Will had returned to his roots and family back in Virginia.

It was with great surprise, then, that Chilton received a phone call from Mr. Graham at half-past midnight on September 6th.

“Hello?”  
There was no response.  
“Hello?” Chilton repeated.  
“Uh, hi, Frederick, sorry. It’s Will—Will Graham.”  
The air felt sucked out of Chilton’s lungs. “Wha—Will? Hello! How—um, how are you doing?”  
Chilton could hear Will sigh. “Oh, I’m fine. I just…” He paused. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Frederick, I just realized the time. I should—I’ll—I’m sorry.”  
As if Chilton was going to let him go that easily. “No, no, no! It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t sleeping yet, anyway. What’s going on?” Why did you call me?  
“I’m, uh, I’m getting a divorce.”  
“…I’m terribly sorry, but I really have hardly any training in family and relationship counseling. I think you’ll find Doctor Bloom has quite a lot more—“  
“—No, I didn’t—I don’t want your therapy.”  
“Alright…”  
Will sighed again. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you had moved.”  
“My old house was not very friendly to my chair,” Chilton said carefully. “Why?”  
Silence.  
“Will?”  
“Sorry, I—I tried to visit you, actually. I don’t know your new address.”  
Chilton frowned. “Will, are you alright?”  
“…No. I’m sorry I called. I’ll let you get back to—to whatever you were doing.”  
“Will, wait. When did this happen? Did you talk it through with your wife yet?”  
“We’ve been talking about it ever since I got back from—from Cuba. Everyone thought I was dead. She thought I was dead. She started seeing someone else; I don’t blame her. I just… I know she’s strong. I know she’s not scared of me or, or, or my job, it’s only…”  
“What?” Chilton asked when the pause got too long.  
“She doesn’t understand,” Will murmured, almost too quiet to catch. Then, continuing in a stronger voice, “Molly doesn’t understand the work, what you have to do… She doesn’t even really understand me. I thought—well, she did understand me, but that was before… I—I don’t think I’m the same person that I was before I left. I think I’m still me, but I’m not her Will. She’s trying to get me to get back to where I was before but I just can’t do it. I can’t just leave that behind. Where am I going to put it? I can’t vent to her about these things because she has no frame of reference. It all sounds like a movie to her… and it scares Walter.”  
Chilton listened to Will’s tirade, trying to decide whether to offer another referral to Alana or whether to simply let the man speak. The latter won out, in the end.  
“Will, would you like to come over tomorrow? I think it might be easier for you to talk about this in person.”  
“You don’t mind?”  
“I offered.”  
“Thank you. I think I will. What’s your new address?”  
Chilton rattled it off. Will thanked him again and hung up.

In all honesty, Chilton wasn’t exactly thrilled that Will called him. Wherever Graham went, it seemed, destruction and manipulation followed. His immediate reaction was to call Will back and tell him to fuck off. How dare he call after five years and pretend they were somehow bosom buddies? The last time they’d spoken, Chilton had been badly burned, humiliated, and convinced Will had set him up. Since then, he’d come to peace with the rational belief that Dolarhyde was never going to target Will because of his plans for Hannibal. It was only natural for the killer to go for the, dare he say it, easier target. 

Still, for the past two years that Graham had been back in America, he hadn’t said a single thing to any of them, besides what was required of him for the FBI’s records. It was decided, for posterity, that Will had been undercover and that the FBI had known him to be alive the whole time. Everyone involved knew that was a farce, but it was allowed because it meant Will walked free.

But, as he sat in his living room, three-quarters of the way through a bottle of Cabernet, Chilton realized how unfair he was being. Under Hannibal’s influence, they had all behaved poorly and he was certainly not above reproach. Will, brilliant as he was, couldn’t have known that Jack would be so careless as to let Miriam Lass anywhere near a firearm, or that Dolarhyde wouldn’t try and kill him instead of Chilton. Whatever anyone said about him, Will wasn’t any more a killer than any other law enforcement officer was. 

(Besides, he could never begrudge the warm hand that had been placed on his shoulder. Will had given him the faintest of amused smiles—look at our little joke—and invited him to stand so close that Chilton could see the dog hair on his shirt. And it did work: Will Graham granted authenticity to the doctor who had been publicly shamed and accused of not only unethical practices, but murder and cannibalism. Any doubt remaining in people’s minds that he was somehow the Chesapeake Ripper was fully and finally dismissed with the approval of the foremost man on the job.)

The wine was dry on his tongue. He really should have saved it for a meal.

He wasn’t going to cancel with Will. He wanted to see him—it had been so long—and, most importantly, he wanted to see him sometime when no one was chasing them. He was loathe to admit it, but he was lonely and it would be nice to see a friend.


	2. Andante, Andante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chilton is an ABBA fan.

The doorbell rang at one o’clock in the afternoon. Chilton wheeled himself to the door and opened it; his dog, Coco, was right behind him, barking.

“Ah, Will, come in!”

Will’s hair was now short enough that it didn’t begin to curl. He was dressed in his usual combination of sweater, jeans, and flannel. He had less of a beard and more of a three-days’ scruff starting on his cheeks. Coco sniffed at his legs.

Graham smiled when he saw Chilton. “Hey, Frederick. Who’s this?”  
“Coco. I got her when I moved here. She’s a, uh, a good guard dog.”  
Will laughed. “Certainly looks it.” Coco was licking his hand and wagging her tail.

They moved into the living room where Chilton had left out a plate of fruit and some tea.

Will sat down on the couch and rubbed his palms across his jeans.  
“I wanted to apologize for calling so late,” he said. “That was pretty rude of me.”  
“I don’t get much sleep these days.” Chilton smiled ruefully. “It was nice to have a distraction.”  
Will smiled back, tail tucked between his legs. 

It was strange for Chilton to see him again. He didn’t know what to say. 

He almost wanted to take a picture. Look, world! I have the real Will Graham in my living room! The sunlight is on his face and he’s eating strawberries with me. Look! It was almost surreal.

“Do you still want to talk about—about last night?” Chilton asked.   
Will was looking at Coco as he scratched behind her ears. “Maybe. I don’t know. How are you doing? I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier.”  
“I… I’m good. Obviously, I’ve healed,” he gestured to his body. “I’ve got my own private practice now. It’s routine.”  
Will nodded.

While chasing Hannibal, Will had vacillated between being intensely concentrated on the wrong things in conversation to paying you no attention at all. He either twisted your words until you almost didn’t recognize yourself or he dismissed you as not deserving of his focus.   
Now, it seemed as if he’d shed some invisible weight. His eyes were brighter, if a little sad. He seemed awake.

“You look good,” Will said, then blushed.   
Chilton smiled.

They didn’t end up talking about Will’s impending divorce. Instead, they talked about Chilton’s little window garden; about how it was nice to get back to Virginia but Will still found himself missing the Cuban weather; about how Will liked Chilton’s new house so much better than his old one.

“I’m telling you, Frederick, that old one looked like the MoMA,” Will said, laughing. “And not in a good way.”  
Chilton rolled his eyes. “From anyone else, that would be a compliment. But, I agree. I like this new one better. It’s much more… personal.”  
Will smiled, looking around the room. His eyes caught on the small stack of vinyl near the record player. An incredulous look bloomed and spread on his face.  
“Oh God,” Chilton moaned.  
Will stood and picked up the top three albums. “You like ABBA? _You? ABBA?_ ”  
“Yes?”  
“I cannot tell you how happy that makes me,” Will grinned.  
“I’m fully aware I have bad music taste. I don’t need anyone else to remind me.”  
“What? No! I like ABBA. It’s not my favorite, but it’s not bad. I was going to say that it makes me happy because it’s so un-Hannibal.”  
And thus the other shoe dropped. They had been dancing around his name all afternoon. Somehow, though, saying his name was almost a relief.  
“Yes, it certainly is,” Chilton said, rolling his eyes again. “The one time I chanced to mention I liked vinyl records, Hannibal took the opportunity to give a lecture, in front of a group, on how not even vinyl could capture the live music experience. He then offered to buy me a ticket to the symphony, because apparently he thought I had never been. A friend of mine used to play third chair viola.”  
Will laughed. “Do you mind if I put one of these on? I haven’t listened to anything outside of my car’s radio in a while.”  
Chilton waved a hand. “Be my guest.”  
Super Trouper started warbling out of the speakers.

Will sighed as he sat back down. “I couldn’t tell Alana about it.”  
“What?” Chilton asked, though he knew.  
“My divorce. I didn’t want to show up after five years telling her about how I’m suddenly available. I don’t want her to think I’m hitting on her, especially after she’s married.”  
“Obviously, that is not a problem with me.”  
Will blushed. “I didn’t—sorry. I wasn’t trying to…”  
“I know,” Chilton said. 

_“I don’t want to talk_   
_About the things we’ve gone though…”_

“Well,” Will smiled drily, “I’m obviously not the poster child for happy marriage.”  
“You seem very certain it’s over. Have you actually signed the papers yet?”

_“But tell me, does she kiss_   
_Like I used to kiss you?_

_Does it feel the same_   
_When she calls your name?”_

“No, but I don’t need to. It’s been growing for a while. I think I wasn’t truly myself when I married her. I was so wrapped up in everything— _Hannibal_ —that I just couldn’t let her touch my other life, my work life. Only, now, I don’t think I can separate the two. I can’t forget what happened to me. I can’t separate it out.”  
Chilton felt a tide of sympathy rise for Will. “You might not ever be able to ‘get over’ what you went through. But, that’s not really the point.”

_“Take it easy with me please_   
_Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze_   
_Take your time, make it slow_   
_Andante, Andante_   
_Just let the feeling grow”_

“Your trauma is written into your life,” Chilton continued. “But it doesn’t have to own you. You probably can’t ever forget it, and you shouldn’t. You are not the same person you were before it happened. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy things.”  
Will smiled. “I thought you said I should talk to Alana for therapy.”  
“This isn’t therapy. I’m speaking as a—as a friend.”

_“Andante, Andante,_   
_Tread lightly on my ground_   
_Andante, Andante_   
_Oh please don’t let me down”_

Will’s eyes, tired and blue and full of some intense emotion, flicked up to meet Chilton’s for the first time that afternoon. He smiled.


	3. the 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coco is a good girl.

Chilton woke to heavy rain and his alarm.

It was September 10th, a Monday, and he had appointments beginning at 9 am.

After showering, he went to the kitchen and put on some coffee. He had managed to sleep a full eight hours last night, which was unusual. 

Since moving fully to private practice, he’d been able to tone down his dress a bit. Instead of three-piece suits, he typically wore pressed slacks, a button down, and a sports jacket: clean, sharp, yet casual enough to wear downtown. Not that he’d had any reason to go downtown, lately, besides for the odd order of takeout from his favorite restaurant.

During his drive to work, he kept thinking of Will and his surprise phone call. He wondered whether Will was still living with his wife, or whether he’d moved out. He wondered where Will was working. Was he still teaching at the academy, or had he totally forsaken the FBI? He realized, then, that he hadn’t asked any of these questions when Will had been in front of him. Something had held him back from asking anything that might make Will’s smile fade and get him to edge towards the door. 

He wondered whether Will wondered about him.

His morning’s appointments were quite average. He had one bulimic, one postpartum depressed, and one schizophrenic. What he had told Will was true: he really didn’t do much in the way of relationship and family counseling. What he’d left out was that he had changed his focus totally away from the violent and disturbed, zeroing in rather on those common and easily treatable patients who wouldn’t threaten him with bodily harm. He liked to think he deserved it, after everything.

By noon, the rain had subsided. He had just pulled out his lunch—leftovers of last night’s stew—when his phone’s text tone went off.

It was Will:

 _> >_ _Does Coco like chew toys?_

Chilton blinked down at the screen. _Obviously, she’s a dog,_ he tapped out, _Why?_

_> > Buddy broke his and I was getting a new one_   
_> > Thought she might like one too_

Chilton frowned. First a random call from Will in the middle of the night and now Will was texting him? Five years ago, it would have been strange, but allowable. Now, though, after so much time with no contact, it was bordering on suspicious. Experience had certainly taught him that former patients of his tended to harbor quite a bit of negative feelings towards him. That certainly didn’t line up with Graham offering to buy Coco a chew toy.

Oh God.

He’d let Will into his house! What had he been thinking? The man—  
No. Wait. Hannibal was dead. 

Hannibal was dead.

This was Will Graham, not Hannibal. Will Graham was annoying, arrogant, and dismissive at times, but he wasn’t truly dangerous, not without Hannibal—and he really did love dogs.

_< < She’d love one, thank you! _

He ignored the desire to offer something in return. If Will was actually acting out of some altruistic desire towards Coco, that would be enough for him. If he wanted something more, then he’d have to earn it.

Chilton’s afternoon went by slowly, but uneventfully. His thoughts were mostly occupied by what he wanted to have for dinner. Should he have offered to have Will come over? No, that was pushing things. Better to keep some distance for now.

Will came by his house that evening to drop the toy off. He still hadn’t shaved.

“Hey, Coco,” he cooed as she bounded up to him. “How are you? I got you a present.”

He took the toy out of the grey plastic bag he’d been holding it in. It was a set of three silicone rings, one blue, one red, and one yellow. The three were linked, like a chain. 

“This here,” Will said, holding it up for Chilton to see, “is the sturdiest damn chew toy in the world. Mine’s been through about eight dogs, now, and it’s never even cracked.”

“Wow,” Chilton said. “Thank you. I’m sure she’ll love it. Would you like to come in?”

Will rocked on his feet. “Uh, no thank you, Doctor.” _Doctor? Why was he Doctor, now?_ “Better get home. I haven’t had dinner yet.”

Chilton nodded. “Well, thank you, anyway. For the, uh, toy.”

Will smiled quickly, then shuffled back off the porch to his car. Chilton shut the door and handed the toy to Coco.

“There you are, you good girl,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “You can rip that thing all you want.”

He spent the evening in front of the television, idly watching _Jeopardy!_


	4. i forgot that you existed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here comes my wife.

Weeks passed and September turned into October. Will didn’t text or call, and, frankly, Chilton was unsurprised. What little of a professional relationship they had had all but deteriorated after Chilton’s accident and Will’s little stint in Cuba. Chilton fully expected Will to drop out of his life again, this time for forever. 

(Didn’t they all do that, in the end?)

So, he continued doing what he’d been doing. He spent his weekends either at home or, occasionally, flying out to visit his mother where she lived in Massachusetts. Boston was beautiful that time of year, with leaves covering the wet asphalt and highlighting the red brick of the historic part of town.

That day, he was meandering through the city alone while his mother took her afternoon nap. He’d stopped in at a bookstore slash restaurant and was sipping at a green smoothie, when he got a phone call.

He shoved his smoothie between his legs and wheeled out to the sidewalk to answer it.

“Hello?”  
“Hi, is this Doctor Chilton?”  
“It is,” he said. The street noise was making it hard to hear the person on the other end of the line. He turned his phone’s volume up all the way. “May I ask who this is?”  
“Freddie Lounds. Is this a bad time?”  
Chilton blinked. “Miss Lounds! Hello. I suppose that depends on the nature of the call.”  
“I was hoping to set up an appointment with you, Doctor.”  
“You can call my office to set up an appointment with my secretary, Davis. I can give you the number.”  
Freddie laughed. “Not that kind of appointment. I want an interview.”  
“I believe I have already exhausted all my information on the Chesapeake Ripper, Miss Lounds. You can read about it in my _book_.”  
“You know, Doctor Chilton,” she purred, “I really don’t think you have.”  
Chilton frowned. Whatever Freddie wanted, it couldn’t be good. The condensation on the outside of his smoothie cup was beginning to soak into his legs. He took a moment to shift around before responding.  
“Miss Lounds,” he said icily, “may I ask specifically what type of article you plan to write? I am not interested in being gawked at again.”  
“Nothing like that, Doctor, don’t worry. I’m writing a little ‘five years later’ type of thing. Catching up with some of my old threads. I’m trying to make sure every element of the Ripper story was heard first from me. I’ve got quite a lot of competition, don’t you know, ever since I made crime writing so profitable. People are scrambling to find something I didn’t already cover. I have to make sure I stay one step ahead. So here’s the deal, I ask you questions, you give me answers. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want. Simple as that.”  
“How about this, instead? You tell me the questions, I approve which ones you can ask— _off-record_ —and then, _on_ the record, you ask me only those questions I already have answers prepared for. No surprises.”  
Freddie laughed again. “Tricky, tricky, tricky, Doctor Chilton. I see you’ve played this game before. Fine. No surprises. What’s the number for your secretary?”  
Chilton rattled it off.   
“Thank you, Doctor. You’re very kind. Now one more thing before I go…”  
“Yes?”  
“How’s Mr. Graham?”  
 _Beep._  
Chilton gaped for a moment, then remembered where he was. _She hung up on him! Did she—she couldn’t know Will had stopped by his house… Could she?_

He put his phone back in his pocket and rubbed at his eyes. The next time anyone from the FBI or connected at all to the Ripper case tried to contact him, he was not even going to answer. He’d passed through that fire (excuse the pun) and had moved on to better things. That was certainly one grave that didn’t need constant digging up.

By the time he made it back to his mother’s apartment, she was awake and idly watching some daytime soap opera. He went over to her and kissed her on the cheek.

“Where have you been?” She asked.  
“Bookstore. I got a smoothie.”  
“Was it vegetarian?”  
“Vegan, yes, it was. It was quite good.” Chilton sighed. “What are you watching?”  
“‘General Hospital.’ You’ve seen it before.”  
“I don’t remember it.”  
“You were probably asleep.”  
Chilton watched the drama unfold onscreen for a minute or two, then turned away.   
“Do you need help with dinner?”  
“No, you go relax.”  
“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Chilton said.  
“Why don’t you chop the vegetables?”

Chilton’s mother was probably in the last few years where she would be independent. She was approaching 75, and though she had kept in very good health until then, sometimes age simply caught up to you, no matter what you did. This past year, she had started to get more sleepy and began taking frequent naps in the afternoon. She hadn’t yet become forgetful, but it was only a matter of time. Her slow, gentle decline was both comforting and terrifying for Chilton. He half wanted to avoid her to ignore her mortality, but he knew he couldn’t do it. So, instead, he tried to see her as often as possible in her little apartment in Boston. Besides, it was always nice to see your mother.

After dinner, the two sat in the living room, Chilton checking his email and reading the odd article or two and his mother doing needlepoint. It was nice to just exist around another person. Five years ago, Chilton had taken that for granted. He hardly visited his family and actively pushed people away. After two or three near-death experiences, though, your perspective on life tends to change.


	5. it would have been fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> freddie and frederick are mlm wlw hostility

“Miss Lounds,” Chilton said, shaking Freddie’s hand. She was dressed smartly in a gold dress and blazer, both of which accented her hair quite well. “A pleasure, as always. I see you’re still in the magpie business. I expect publishing other people’s work pays quite well.”  
Freddie smiled. “Rather a magpie than _flambéed_.”  
The smile slid off of Chilton’s face. _Bitch_. “Have a seat.”  
“Thank you. I got your email. You vetoed nearly every question.”  
“I know,” Chilton said, smiling. “Would you like a drink? Or do leeches not drink?”  
“I would love one, Doctor. I’m surprised you can still afford it, after your book was such a failure.”  
“I’m a best-selling author, and I wrote everything in that book.”  
“You _were_ a best-selling author,” Freddie corrected. “And you’re one to talk about leeches. I have to pay you for nearly every article I’ve written on the Ripper since you trademarked his name.”  
“Not his name, his _title_. And I had every right to. I beat you to it.”  
“Fool me once.” She smiled tightly. “Now, shall we begin?” She pulled out her tape-recorder and clicked it on.  
“First off, Doctor Chilton, how have you kept busy these past five years? It’s been quite a while since you’ve been at BSHCI. Have you ever thought of going back?”  
“I’ve thought about it, but never for very long,” Chilton responded smoothly. “I wanted to relax a little after everything that happened. Besides, in the long-term, I had planned to move to private practice, anyway. It just seemed the right time.”  
“Have you felt your career has been affected by the Ripper incident? Perhaps, damaged in some way or, maybe, _boosted undeserving_?” Freddie’s expression was perfectly innocent, but Chilton could see petty fire shining behind her eyes.  
“Changed? Yes, definitely. But no, I don’t think the Ripper has given me any unwarranted fame. I’ve simply played the cards I was dealt, Miss Lounds. Don’t we all?”  
“Certainly, certainly. Have you kept in contact with any of your former colleagues?”  
“I have not kept in contact with FBI colleagues, no. I have had no reason to, now that I’ve left the hospital.”  
“What about Mr. Graham? I heard the two of you used to be _quite_ close.”  
Chilton frowned. “We… had a professional relationship. We were working together on the Ripper case. He stayed in my hospital at one point. I would say that is the extent to which I interacted with Mr. Graham. I don’t see what that has to do with—”  
“—What about Dr. Bloom and Margot Verger’s wedding, though? I heard there was an incident that occurred—“  
Chilton’s eyes went wide. “Miss Lounds, I don’t believe I have any more time for you today, thank you. If you don’t mind?” He gestured to the door.  
Freddie smiled as she clicked off her recorder. "Good day, Doctor Chilton. Thank you for your time.”  
Chilton did not return her smile.

As soon as Freddie left, he let his forehead fall to his desk with a _thunk_. Of course Freddie fucking Lounds would know about that. She probably had found out, somehow, about Will visiting him last month. What angle was she going for? How was she trying to twist this? Not that there was anything to twist…

_Everyone had taken the opportunity to get a little more wasted than was strictly necessary. Chilton had shuffled into the bathroom to clear his head from the loud music. He’d found Will in there, splashing water on his face and looking for all the world like he was going to be sick._   
_“Are you alright?” Chilton had asked._   
_Will had looked up at him, water dripping from his beard, and eyes more open and raw than Chilton had ever seen._   
_“I can’t let him take this away from them,” Will had said. “I can’t let him. I can’t let him ruin your lives anymore.”_   
_Chilton had placed a hand on Will’s arm, then, and said, “My life’s not ruined. None of our lives are ruined. It’s okay, Will. It’s going to be okay.”_   
_Will had stared at him for a long time, until the moment was broken by someone bursting through the door. They separated and didn’t speak again for the rest of the party._

They hadn’t _done_ anything. Whatever Freddie was trying to say had happened between them was just baseless conjecture and could be easily refuted by both parties. She had nothing to go on, really.

(If Will had been leaning ever closer, close enough that Chilton could see the small freckles beneath his eyes; and if Chilton had been sliding his hand down Will’s smooth forearm towards a hand that he imagined felt as rough and sturdy as it looked; and if there had been some sort of unspoken weight in the air when they had been interrupted, well… Freddie didn't have to know.)

Chilton managed to compose himself before his next appointment, but by the time he got back home his head was swimming again with things he hadn’t thought for five years.

Surely standing next to someone in a bathroom wasn’t enough to base an entire theory off of. What else could she even use to support her claims?

Images flashed past Chilton’s eyes: bringing Will flowers after he was gutted; the shameless way he had asked to spend more time around Graham when he and Jack Crawford visited after the nurse had been murdered; every single time they had shared a secret look, staring at each other across the room, the only two people who both knew, for a fact, that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. 

_Damn it._

At least the worst she could do was try and embarrass him. It was common knowledge that he was gay, had been for over twenty years. But she could still try and dig Will with that information, make him feel uncomfortable and unwilling to be seen around Chilton anymore. Heaven knew why she cared so much. Surely he wasn’t that interesting anymore.

A loud thunder-crack sounded and Chilton jumped. How poignant, he thought.

He debated whether he should warn Graham about what Freddie was trying to do. At least owning up to it would lessen some of the embarrassment.

It certainly would sting when he finally got that silence, that rejection. But, he didn’t really care all that much, anymore. After all, it had been five years. 

But, _oh,_ there had been a time.

  
There had been a time, before he had even officially met Will, when he had seen him across the hallway at the FBI. Chilton had been giving a profile, or perhaps filling out some information before getting a new inmate, or something to that effect, and Will had stepped out of some office and happened to glance in his direction. 

There had been a time, later, when Will had visited BSHCI with Jack, and Chilton had been foolish and fumbling in his attempts to flatter Will about his work. Will had brushed him off quite abruptly, but had smiled at him in passing as he left. It meant nothing, but Chilton had thought of it all afternoon.

There had been a time, too, when Will had been getting ever more squashed under Hannibal’s thumb and Chilton couldn’t keep the acid out of his tone whenever Lecter was mentioned. He covered his hate for the man with accusations of cannibal and murderer because ‘he gets too close to Will Graham’ wouldn’t cut it.

Then, finally, two years ago, he had seen Will’s face again—alive! Will’s short hair, long beard, and haggard expression were stark in the newspaper grey-scale, but he looked more beautiful than he ever had before. Chilton still had that paper in a drawer somewhere.

Chilton sighed. Perhaps Freddie was right, if only a little bit.


	6. smoke was coming off my jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lunch date~

Will called Chilton the day that Freddie Lounds published her interview.

“Yes?”  
“Frederick, it’s Will. Where are you?”  
“What? I’m—I’m at my office. Why? Is something wrong?” A familiar bubble of panic was rising in his throat.  
“No,” Will said quickly, “nothing’s wrong. I saw you gave Freddie Lounds an interview.”  
“Yes, I did. Did she publish it yet?” Chilton had already seen it, of course he had. He’d been refreshing _TattleCrime.com_ ever since she left his office two weeks ago. The headline was ‘FIVE YEARS LATER: DR CHILTON SCARRED FOREVER, MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY’ with a bolded tagline below it reading ‘HIDDEN ROMANCE BETWEEN ACCUSED MURDERERS???’  
“Yeah, she did today,” Will said, then called Freddie a couple of choice expletives. “Have you eaten lunch yet? I’d like to ta—to catch up.”  
“No, I haven’t. Would you like to come by my office? There’s a nice vegan restaurant a block from here. We can walk.”  
“Yes, I’ll do that. I think I can get there by 11:45, is that alright?”  
“Yes, perfect. Thank you.”  
“Alright. See you then. Bye.”  
 _Beep._

Chilton tried to ignore the panic he felt at the fact Will wanted ‘to catch up’ after reading Freddie’s article. He knew this was coming. He would simply own up to the fact, tell Will that it was all in the past and he’d moved on, and hopefully they could still be cordial. There was no reason for this to get messy.

Will smiled a little when he saw Chilton. He looked more put-together than he had before. He’d groomed his beard into something more manageable and his hair was nearly back to its signature curl.

“Hi,” he said. “What an asshole, right?”  
“What?”  
“Freddie Lounds. Asshole. I’d punch her again, if I could.”  
Chilton scoffed. “I’m fairly certain that would get you arrested. Again.”  
“Probably. But it would be satisfying. Do you know, she once took a picture of me, naked, in my hospital bed? There were tubes coming out of me on all sides.”  
“She put a picture of me, three days post-burn, on the front page of TattleCrime. She sold t-shirts of it.”  
Will cringed. “I forgot about that. Sorry.”  
“It’s fine. I actually bought one myself.”  
“What? Really?”  
“Yes, I wear it to the grocery store sometimes. Always gets me to the front of the line.”  
Will laughed.  
“Shall we?” Chilton said, gesturing at the sidewalk.  
“Yes, let’s.”

Unfortunately, the restaurant was rather crowded and they had to ask five people to move their seats so Chilton could fit in the doorway and another five to move so he could get seated at the table. It was a little embarrassing, but only really because Will was there. Chilton didn’t really know how Will felt about his chair yet.

“I spoke with Alana last week,” Will said once they’d ordered their food. “It didn’t go well.”  
Chilton raised his eyebrows.  
“She, uh…” Will sighed, then laughed drily. “She told me to get lost.”  
“That doesn’t sound like Dr. Bloom,” Chilton said slowly. “Are you alright?”  
Will stared across the restaurant for a minute before replying. “She said I remind her too much of—“ Will looked around then leaned closer. “—of _Hannibal_ ,” he murmured.  
“As in the events surrounding him or the man himself?”  
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t let me talk. She said she was trying to ‘protect her son.’ As if I’m not doing the same. Speaking of which, we talked custody yesterday. I’m getting weekends and half of the holidays. I don’t mind. I just don’t want to talk about who gets the house. I hate the quiet anymore but I’ve lived there for years.”  
Chilton laughed. “You? Hate quiet? Maybe you are turning into Hannibal.”  
Will frowned and looked away.  
“I’m sorry,” Chilton said quickly. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just—“  
“—It’s alright,” Will interrupted. “I know.”

An awkward silence descended, continued when the waitress brought their food. Chilton used his fork as an excuse to avoid conversation. It was unlike the Will he had known to share personal information so easily. The man must be really shaken up.

“You’re _nothing_ like him,” Chilton said abruptly, with a small smile. “You actually have a soul, or so I’m assuming.”  
Will looked up from his vegan grits with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’m not Freddie.”  
They smiled together.   
Chilton took a breath. “Did you read the article?”  
“The one about you? Yes, I did. She tried _so hard_ to pull something from what you said, it was almost laughable. Did you see the bit where she said something like, ‘Doctor Chilton blinked angrily.’ How do you _blink_ angrily?” Will chuckled.   
“No, I didn’t read it.”  
“Why not?”  
 _Because the tagline terrified me,_ Chilton thought.  
“Couldn’t find the time,” he said.  
Will rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re not missing much. The bit on you is pretty short, anyway. She has this whole conspiracy thing going on for those two suspects in that new murder case.”  
“What?”  
“Yeah, she’s saying that they’re _in love_ based off of a friend of a friend or however she writes her bullshit. It’s nonsense. I don’t know why anyone pays her for it.”  
Chilton felt relief course through his veins. He was off the hook, for now.  
“She tried to insult _my_ book,” Chilton sneered. “As if it didn’t outsell her garbage for over a year.”  
Will laughed. “I actually read _that_. I can never get all the way through Freddie’s articles. They’re such messes. There’s no consistency to them—she just jumps from conclusion to conclusion without building them up at all. At least you base your theories off fact.”  
Chilton brightened at Will’s praise, basic though it may have been. It was rare anyone spoke to him about his writing, anymore.  
“What can I say? I was formally trained in the ancient magic of _writing citations_.”  
“That was one of the nerdiest sentences I’ve ever heard,” Will chuckled.   
Chilton flushed automatically. “I do publish in medical journals.”  
“It’s funny, that’s all. Sometimes I—I forget that you’re a doctor.”  
“Well, I’m glad I avoid the stereotype, then,” Chilton said.

They ate in silence for a minute or two. Chilton kept glancing over at Will, his profile strong and beautiful in the low light. 

Suddenly, Chilton remembered what he’d wanted to ask Will before.  
“Are you still teaching?”  
“Trying to,” Will said. “I left, after… well. Then I wasn’t for the past two years. But—I—I wanted to go back. I wanted to do it again. I did that before—before _Hannibal_ and I thought, why can’t I do it again? I…” Will sighed. “I wanted to do it again.”  
Chilton nodded. “It makes sense, that you would want a return to what you know, especially considering… recent disruptions.”  
Will scoffed. “‘Disruptions.’ That makes it sound like I had no choice.”  
Chilton wanted to probe that line further, but decided against it. He didn’t want to scare Will away from ever having casual conversation with him again.  
“You mentioned your house,” he said instead. “Do you think you’re going to move closer? To Quantico?”  
“I don't see what other choice I have,” Will responded drily. “Unless I go back to work with Jack.”  
Chilton paused, then took the plunge. “Do you think you would?”  
Will sighed, then shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then responded simply, “No.”

“What about you?” Will asked, after a moment. “Why did you move all the way out to Annapolis? You don’t strike me as much of one for sea air.”  
Chilton shrugged. “I wanted something different. Ironically, you inspired me to move out of the city. I liked your house.” _It felt safe._  
“It’s a nice place.”  
“Yours or mine?”  
“Both, but I meant yours. I like the flowers,” Will added with a smile. “They’re very pretty.”  
Chilton had tried to make his new home as comforting as possible. He’d shoved as many potted plants, pillows, and little aromatherapy sticks in it as he could. It was an anxious-depressed’s wet dream. He’d also come to love the plants. He liked being able to garden in his own way, without having to worry about getting down on the ground.   
“I have a little lemon tree, too,” Chilton mentioned. “It hasn’t produced much but I still have hope.”  
Will ducked his head and took a large bite off his plate. His smile still found its way into his eyes.


	7. don't go wasting your emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he needs some milk !

_Hands slid down his arms. Soft._   
_“Are you sure?”_   
_“Yes,” he gasped._   
_Hair tickled his cheek._   
_He was so warm. He reached out… grasped the solid body beside himself._   
_Kisses pinpricked his face. Golden. Phantom touch, memory, imagination._   
_“I love you.” Warm._   
_“I love y—_

He woke abruptly to his alarm. He was alone, tangled in his sheets, hands grasping to the other side of the bed. His arms felt very empty.

After dressing and making a frustrated cup of coffee, his phone rang. Chilton resisted the urge to hang up immediately.  
“Miss Lounds. To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
“I just can’t keep away from you, Doctor,” she purred.  
Chilton didn’t grace that with a response.  
“Your piece was very popular,” she huffed. “My t-shirts started selling again. I want to set up another interview—a group one, this time.”  
Chilton sighed. “What group?”  
“You, me, Brian Zeller, and possibly Doctor Bloom. I’ve left her several voicemails but she hasn’t responded yet.”  
“If I say yes, I expect to have the same arrangement as last time.”  
Chilton could practically hear Freddie roll her eyes. “Of course.”  
“When?”  
“This weekend would be ideal. Mr. Zeller is available from one p.m. onwards on Saturday. I’ve rented a hotel suite for the day. It’s very private.”  
“I’m under no obligation to simply _give you_ another interview, Miss Lounds.”  
“I pay you. I paid you the last time.”  
“That’s not enough.”  
She sighed. “Well, how much do you need? Surely your practice can’t be failing _that_ miserably.”  
“I don’t want more money. I want a favor.”  
“Name it.”  
“I want you to drop any suspicions you have about myself and Mr. Graham.”  
“How altruistic of you,” she said drily. “What if Mr. Graham tells me himself?”  
“Then that’s his prerogative. But don’t wheedle it out. If he tells, he tells, but don’t push him.”  
“Do you really expect me to drop every juicy angle of this story, for _you?_ ”  
“Yes.”  
Freddie took a minute to respond. Chilton could imagine the gears turning in her head, weighing the price of leaving her most gruesome subject out of the article.  
“Fine. But if _he tells me_ , I get to publish it.”  
“Good day, Miss Lounds. See you Saturday.”

Chilton set his coffee cup in the sink to wash later. He wondered absently why Will hadn’t been invited to the group interview. Surely he was the pearl of her absurd collection. Perhaps he had been, and had refused. Was Chilton being rash? Should he call Freddie back and cancel? No, he wanted to do these interviews. There was too much suspicion clouding him, still, and he wanted to clear his name finally and forever. He also wanted people to stop associating him with the most awful moment of his life. That would be nice.

His day passed quickly, as did Friday. Saturday morning came with a bought of nausea.

Leaning heavily over the sink, Chilton wondered yet again if he should cancel with Freddie. His stomach clenched painfully and his mind was made up.

“Hello?”  
“Miss Lounds, I regret to inform you that I will be unable to make our appointment,” Chilton said, voice straining.  
“And why’s that? Something more important to do, Doctor?”  
“I’m feeling quite ill, as happens sometimes when one has undergone as much physical trauma as I have.”  
A beat. “Ah. Yes. Well, hopefully we can re-schedule, sometime.”  
“Yes.”  
“Get well soon,” Freddie said lightly. “Or don’t. I’m sure I can write about your death just as easily as your life.”  
Chilton scoffed. “Goodbye, Miss Lounds.” He hung up.

He spent the rest of the day in bed, or near it, hoping it would resolve itself.

Of course, it didn’t.

Halfway through Sunday, Chilton swallowed his pride and texted Will.

_< < You wouldn’t happen to be in the area, would you?_

Will responded two minutes later.

_> > No, but I can be_   
_> > Why?_   
_> > Are you okay?_

_< < Not really_

Before he could send another text explaining his predicament, Chilton’s phone rang. 

“Hello?”  
“Frederick, what’s wrong? What happened?”  
“Nothing—I’m fine, really. I’m just… feeling a little under the weather.”  
“Do you need to go to the hospital? I can take you. I can get there in—shit—maybe an hour? I’m leaving right now.”  
Chilton blinked, stunned. “I'm sorry, you really don't need to drive all that way. I can—I can drive myself.”  
“No,” Will dismissed swiftly. “I’m taking you. Is it an emergency? Can you wait that long?”  
“No, it’s not an emergency. I’m—“ Chilton decided against saying _I’m fine_ , as he obviously wasn’t. “I’m alright for now. _Thank you_ , Will.”  
“It’s no trouble. What’s the matter? How are you feeling? Is it—is it your stomach?” Will’s voice carried the understanding of personal experience with it.  
“Yes. I don't think it’s from _that_ , though. I might have the flu.”  
“Mm. Can you get up? Are you stuck in bed?”  
“Yes, I’m—really, I’m fine,” Chilton urged. “Besides, I went to medical school. You really don’t have to drive all that way. I’ll be fine.”  
“Hard to treat yourself, Doctor.”  
Chilton made several more weak attempts at insisting he was fine, but to no avail.  
Eventually, Will sighed and said, “Frederick, if you were really so fine, would you have texted _me?”_  
Chilton wasn't sure Will wanted to know that answer.   
“Anyway,” Will continued when Chilton didn't respond, “my GPS says I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes. Call me if your condition escalates.”  
“I can’t promise I’ll call if I collapse.”  
“ _Frederick,_ ” Will pleaded.  
“I’ll call. Thank you, again. This is—it means a lot.”  
“Of course.”  
 _Beep_.

Chilton spent the next forty-five minutes sorting through his thoughts.

His immediate reaction was to grab his phone, dial Will’s number, and tell him to go back home. It was embarrassing enough to have texted him in the first place, but to have him show up and see Chilton sweaty, nauseated, and mostly just full of self-pity? He would rather die.

Next, came eager anticipation. Will was already on his way—why stop him now? It would probably take him longer to go home, at this point, than to just show up at Chilton’s doorstep. Besides, it had been a lonely few weeks since Chilton had seen him. What would his hair look like today? What color shirt was he wearing? Would he have shaved off his beard, yet, or kept it? Chilton found himself entirely too interested in the answers to these questions. He sighed. He needed another hobby.

Finally, in the last five minutes before Will knocked on his door, Chilton felt pure, unadulterated shame. Will was going through a divorce, for Heaven’s sake! He didn’t need lonely, sexually frustrated Chilton pining away for him and calling him up just to chat and abuse his good nature by playing the sick card. Maybe he should just lock the door and not answer, pretending he had gone out. No, Will would know something was wrong. (Besides, he was definitely capable of kicking down doors, which was 100%, _definitely not_ something that gave Chilton a little thrill down the spine.)

Then, Will knocked on the door and Chilton was ripped from his thoughts. 


	8. lay all your love on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's baby

“How are you feeling?” Will asked as he stumbled in. (He had not shaved, his hair was a mess, and his shirt was a faded green, Chilton noted.)  
“Not ideal, but not bad enough that I need the hospital. I— _thank you_ , Will, really. You didn’t need to do this.”  
Will ignored his protests. “I’m sorry I didn’t have much at home. I brought some soup? It’s canned. I’ll heat it up. It’s tomato, so it’s vegan. I checked. Here, where are your pots?”  
Chilton followed Will into the kitchen, somewhat overwhelmed by this flurry of attention.  
“In that cupboard,” he directed. “Here, let me—“  
“—No, I’ve got it. Really.” Will shot him a smile. “Do you want some water? You look pale.”  
Will grabbed a clean cup out of the drainer and filled it with water, then shoved it into Chilton’s hand.  
“Drink,” he ordered. “You’ll feel better.”  
“A good life motto.”  
Will smiled and Chilton felt it in his chest.  
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” Will said after a moment, stirring the soup. “Honestly, I wanted to get out of the house. Molly and I—well. I needed some air, anyway.”  
“Well, I certainly appreciate it. Can I do anything for you? You can help yourself to a drink. I have a variety in the fridge.”  
“Sure, thanks.”  
Will got out a cherry flavored sparkling water and popped it open.

“How have you been? How are things with the—uh…”  
“Divorce?” Will sighed. “Messy. Complicated… more than I’d thought. Molly and I had this silly disagreement about the house and now she’s trying to say she wants full residential custody of Walter. It’s stupid. I know she’s not going to say that in court tomorrow, but I just wish she wouldn’t try and use Walter against me.”  
“That sounds very upsetting.”  
Will chuckled darkly. “It is. The worst part of it is that we were trying to do it nicely. It was a mutual agreement. We didn't want it to get emotional.”  
“It’s hard to end a relationship without letting some of your feelings out.”  
Will remained quiet, stirring the soup. His face was tight and drawn.  
“I don’t mean to pry,” Chilton said after a moment, “but are you sure it was a mutual decision?”  
Will considered. “Yes. Even—even before Cuba, it was… something was off… The soup’s done. Here.”  
He placed a bowl down on the table in front of Chilton.   
“I’m surprised,” Chilton said.  
“About what?”  
Chilton gave Will a shy smile. “Somehow, you’re the only person on the planet who can make a can of Campbell’s tomato soup taste good.”  
Will turned back to the stove, but not before Chilton could see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “You probably just haven’t had any in years.”  
Chilton shrugged. “Probably.”

After putting the pot in the sink to wash later, Will pulled up a chair and sat across from Chilton at the table. Coco immediately came over and put her face in his lap. Will scratched behind her ears.  
“So you think you have the flu?” He asked.  
“Possibly, or some stomach bug. I’ve been feverish for a day and I’ve been getting headaches.”  
“Do you want any aspirin?”  
“No, thank you. I might wait until later.”  
“Are you sure?”  
Chilton raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I’m sure.”  
Will fiddled with his sleeves and looked away.

The sun came out from behind a cloud and a bright shaft of sunlight spilled onto the kitchen floor. Chilton was suddenly very aware of the dirty dishes in his sink and the dog hair collecting in the corners of the room.   
"I really don’t want to keep you,” Chilton said. “You’ve been more than kind already. I think I can manage.”  
Will frowned at him. “Frederick, one bowl of soup doesn’t cure a man. What else can I do to help? Can I do your dishes? Take Coco out? Do your laundry?”  
“Oh, um… you could take Coco out, if you wanted. I haven’t been able to walk her for a day or two. I think she’s a bit restless.”  
Will smiled. “Sure.”

Once Will had collared and leashed Coco, he stepped outside.  
“I’ll just take her around the block,” he called out. “I won’t be long. Drink some more water.”  
He shut the door.

Chilton let out a breath. His mother’s voice in his head was chastising him for inviting someone over when his house was a mess. _But_ , he argued back, _Will’s house wasn’t very clean. At least, the one time I was there, it wasn’t_. Oh yes, but that had been three days after he got out of jail.   
Great. Chilton’s house looked like he hadn't been taking care of it.  
He shoved back from the table and went over to the sink, intent on cleaning a bit before Will came back. He pushed his sleeves up and turned the water on.

The kitchen windows were cracked open to let the breeze through and some of the rotting scent of the fallen leaves. He could see part of the sidewalk as it stretched past his house to his next-door neighbor’s house. 

He knew quite a bit about his neighbor since she liked to talk about herself. Her name was Janet Caroline and she had six cats, all Persians. She was an older woman, about seventy, whose husband had died almost five years ago. Her passions included watercolors, talking about her grandchildren, and trying to set Chilton up with every somewhat-eligible person in eyesight. In her words, he “needed someone to dote on.” Perhaps she was right. More likely, though, it was a lost cause. Chilton had given up on any hope of marriage a long time ago, and since then he had been disfigured, disabled, and had become something of a permanent bachelor. It was nice to let her have her fun, though. She reminded him of his mother.

Chilton glanced up from the sink to spot Will heading back towards his house with Coco.   
_Please don’t open the door, please don’t open the door, please don’t—_  
 _Oh, shit._  
His neighbor opened her front door and waved to Will.   
“Oh, hello!” She said. “Is that Freddy’s dog?”  
Will smiled. “I’m sorry?”  
“Fred! I saw you come out of his house. That’s so _sweet_ of you, really. He never lets anyone help him. I know, I know—he’s quite capable of taking care of himself, but he shouldn’t have to, that’s all I’m saying. I’m Janet, by the way.”  
Will grinned, looking amused. “I’m Will. And yes, it is his dog. I was just taking her for a walk. He’s feeling a little under the weather today.”  
Janet gawked. “He never told _me!_ I could have brought him some soup! The bastard.”  
“Oh, don’t worry,” Will chuckled. “I made sure he got some. I’m making him drink plenty of water, too.”  
“Yes, you do that. And make sure and tell him that Janet is _very angry_ with him and that he should expect me over there tonight with dinner for the both of you.”  
Will laughed, then turned and—  
—saw Chilton at the window.  
“Oh, there he is. You could tell him now,” Will, _the bastard_ , said. “Frederick! Janet here is mad at you.”  
Chilton’s felt himself gawking, just a little. _The nerve of that man!_  
“Hello, Janet!” He said weakly, offering a small wave.  
“Freddy, I am very mad at you! You should have told me you were sick!”  
“I—It—It’s not that bad.”  
“He’s lying,” Will faux-whispered, enjoying himself way too much. “He’s had a fever and he’s been feeling awful.”  
Chilton glared at Will.  
“Fred, I know I’m not your mother, but sometimes I feel like it—“  
“I really appreciate it, Janet, I do, but I’m really—“  
“I’m not finished, young man!” She waggled her finger at him. “You are getting dinner from me tonight and if I so much as catch a glimpse of you up past ten o’clock I am coming over there and turning off your electricity!”  
“I’m fairly certain that’s illegal,” Chilton grumbled to himself.  
Will only laughed again. “Don’t worry, Janet, I’ll make sure he takes care of himself. Have a good afternoon!”

Will was still smiling when he came back inside. “Your neighbor is certainly very friendly.”  
Chilton rolled his eyes. “That’s one way of putting it.”  
Will unleashed Coco, then looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Have you been doing the dishes?”  
“Uh, yes.”  
“No, you go sit and relax. Here, let me. I don’t want you to—you should rest.”  
Chilton resisted. “Will, I’m perfectly capable of doing the dishes in my own house, really. I’m just a little—urghh—“ He doubled over, then, struck by the clenching pain that had been plaguing him for the past two days.  
Will was beside him immediately, a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? What can I get you?”  
“Just—I just need to wait it out.”  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”  
Chilton grimaced. “Yes. Maybe. I don't know.”  
“I would feel more comfortable if I could take you,” Will said quietly.  
Chilton clenched his teeth, then relaxed. “Fine. We should take my car. I’ll get the keys.”  
“Are you alright to drive?”  
“I’ll be fine.”

Chilton had had to trade in his Jaguar after he got his chair. He now had a dusty grey 2011 Volkswagen Caravelle that let him drive from his chair and had a little blue handicapped tag hanging from the rearview mirror. Privately, he thought the car made him look like a soccer mom, but it worked for him and it had good gas mileage and, frankly, his options anymore were quite a lot more limited.

“This is pretty neat,” Will said, once they had gotten seated and Chilton was backing out of the driveway.   
Chilton shot him a look. “Pretty ugly.”  
Will shrugged. “I like it better than your old car.”  
“Really?”   
“Yeah. Your old car was all flash. This is functional. It helps you live your life.”  
“Well, yes, but it also looks like the car of a thirty-four year old mother of five.”  
Will grinned. “Is that not you?”  
Chilton rolled his eyes. “You’re the one with twenty dogs.”  
“Eight. I have eight. A reasonable amount.”  
“No, _one_ is a reasonable amount. Maybe two. Eight is bordering on insanity.”  
“I was in an asylum, once,” Will joked.   
Chilton snuck a glance at him to gauge his mood. There was a time when Will resented Chilton for his role in his capture and incarceration. He’d thought they had since moved past that, but there was always the question.  
But, instead of the veiled resentment Chilton feared seeing on Will’s face, there was only a tired offer of friendship in his pretty blue eyes.  
Chilton smiled timidly. “Somehow, we both got out.”

The hospital was only about fifteen minutes away. Chilton filled out a page or two of paperwork and was sent back to one of the ER rooms.

“What brings you in here today, Mr. Chilton?” The nurse, a blonde woman of about fifty-five, asked.  
“ _Doctor_. And abdominal pain. It’s been two days. I had a fever yesterday. One-oh-three, I think?”  
“Alright,” she said, typing on a computer, “I’ll just pull up your records, here—“ Her face dropped.  
“I’ll go get the M.D.,” she said, then rushed from the room.

Will had come back with him and sat at one of the chairs beside the exam table.  
“Do they always do that?” He asked.  
“Mm-hmm.”

It took the M.D. about ten minutes to get to their room. He hemmed and hawed for about half an hour and finally broke down and told Chilton he didn’t think their facility had the “expertise” necessary to treat him. Chilton argued with him, tried to tell him he only had the flu and that they should just give him an antiviral and let him leave, but the doctor would hear none of it. He politely dismissed each of Chilton’s suggestions and eventually just left the room.

Chilton was fuming as he wheeled back out to the car, Will beside him.  
“What a pack of idiots,” he huffed. “Can’t even treat the flu? Really? That was blatantly illegal. I’ll have to call my lawyer. I suppose I’ll just have to go to the drugstore, now.” He shook his head. “Wow. _Wow_. I have seen—I have seen a _lot_ of things, but _that_ —!” He scowled as he opened the rear door of the car, lowering the ramp.  
“I’m sorry,” Will said. “Can I do anything to help?”  
“Not really, no. Though… No, never mind.”  
Will raised his eyebrows. “What? I don’t mind. To be honest, I, uh, think it might be best if I’m out late tonight.”  
Chilton settled himself in the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. This whole day had been a mess. He should just quit while he was ahead. He didn’t want Will to see him cry.  
“No, it’s really nothing. And I appreciate the offer, but I think I would prefer to be alone this evening.”  
Will nodded. “I understand. Let me know if you do need anything else, though. I don’t mind.”  
Chilton almost smiled, but thought better of it. “Thank you.”

As soon as they got back to Chilton's house, Will said his goodbye and drove off. Chilton went inside, climbed into bed, and hugged a pillow. 

He got sick much more frequently now than he did before. It probably had something to do with his missing organs, but it might also be the repeated stress and trauma. Frankly, it could be anything. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that he was a fucking mess and he would be for the rest of his miserable life.

He knew he would get the hospital matter sorted with his lawyer. That was illegal and they all knew it. The hospital would probably offer him some sort of compensation to get him to shut up.

What really bothered him was the terribly, terribly stupid flickering of hope he had about Will.

He was in pain, feeling nauseous, and getting choked up over something he shouldn’t even be thinking about. Having Will over and being doted on made him realize just how much he still wanted love, connection, domesticity. To find that in Will Graham, a man with whom he had such a complicated history, was absolutely, horrifically, awful.

(But it was also so sweet!)

Coco came and put her nose in his hand. He let her climb up beside him.

Chilton knew that he was an idiot. He was too pushy, too loud, too friendly with people right off the bat. He knew that he pushed people away and scared them off. It made sense that he would be stupid enough to text Will Graham, who wasn't even really a friend, anymore, if he was honest. It made sense that he would let Will make him soup and take his dog on a walk and drive with him to the hospital. Of course he would dangle his heart over the edge, fully knowing there was nothing waiting for him but more pain.

Had Will known? Could he tell?

Did he see the idiotic way Chilton stared after him as he drove off?

Chilton hoped he hadn’t, but knew that didn’t count for much.

He managed to clean himself up enough that when Janet came over, he didn't even blink when she asked where Will had gone.


	9. ruby red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> will sends a 'just divorced' selfie.

Chilton woke up to a text from Will.

>> _How are you feeling?_

Chilton wanted to ignore it, but knew that would only make it worse. It wasn’t a big deal to text Will and he wasn’t going to make it one.

<< _A bit better, thanks_

Will responded promptly.  
 _> > That’s great_  
 _> > Let me know if you need anything_  
 _> > I’ll be in court today but I’ll keep my ringer on_

Chilton blinked down at the phone in his hand. _That’s right!_ Will had mentioned that he was going to the divorce court today. 

_< < Good luck!_

Chilton spent the better part of the day in front of the television, drinking cup after cup of tea and picking at bread. He was still feeling nauseous, but the worst of the pain had gone. 

At 3:21 p.m., he received a picture text from Will.

It was a selfie Will had taken of himself in the foreground, wearing a suit and grinning, and Molly sitting behind him, looking annoyed.

His phone vibrated again.

_> > Just divorced!_  
 _> > Are you up to drinks tonight? I could use a few._  
Chilton smiled. 

_< < I can handle a few. Where?_

_> > Actually, can I call you?_

“Hello?”  
“Frederick! Hello!” Will sounded he’d just gotten off a wild amusement park ride, excited but a little confused. “I actually need to ask a favor.”  
“What? Anything.”  
“Can I stay with you?”  
Chilton blinked. “Tonight?”  
“And, uh, until further notice? I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ask, only I really don’t want to go back to Wolf Trap tonight. Can I bring the dogs? I’m sorry, again. If you’re too sick, it’s no trouble. I’ll find a motel. I only asked since it’s so hard to find ones that allow dogs.”  
Chilton vividly remembered showing up, covered in blood and scared for his life, on Will’s doorstep, shaking like a leaf, and asking to use Will’s shower. Of course he would return the favor.  
“Of course,” he said. “I don’t mind at all. I’m really feeling quite a lot better today. And I don’t mind the dogs.”  
“Thank you,” Will breathed. “Thank you, Frederick, really. I appreciate it. I—well, she got the house. We knew that. We had decided that for a while, since she hadn’t worked for almost ten years. She’s getting remuneration, too, but—sorry. It’s just a lot. I don’t mean to vent.”  
“I am a psychiatrist, Will,” Chilton said, smiling. “I’m used to people venting to me.”  
“Yeah, I guess you are. Anyway, we knew she would get the house, and I would be able to stay there for a while until I found somewhere else, but I just—I really can’t go back there right now. Walter’s upset. He doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t think I can talk to him quite yet. I just—I really appreciate it.”  
“Don’t mention it. Would you like dinner? I can make us something.”  
“No, don’t. I’ll bring something.”

Will arrived an hour later with a bag from Burger King and a nervous flush on his face. His dogs ran from behind him, loud and chaotic, into Chilton’s living room.  
“Ever tried the Impossible Burger?” He asked.  
Chilton smiled. “I have not, but I’ve meant to. Have you?”  
“No, but I have to say, the prospect of a meatless burger sounds pretty good.”  
They went into the kitchen. Chilton got out two beers—some fruity, limited edition kind he’d gotten on a whim from the grocery store—and handed one to Will.  
“A toast,” Chilton said, raising his drink. “To the end of an era—and hopefully to better new beginnings.”  
“Here, here.”  
They clinked their bottles and took a swig.

“You know, it’s strange,” Will said, chewing on his burger. “We were married for seven, eight years and I was gone for almost half of ‘em. Makes me wonder if, maybe if I’d stayed, if it might have somehow worked out. I really shouldn’t even think that, though, because then I’ll get caught wondering if that’s how Hannibal planned it all along.”  
“Manipulative as he was, I don’t think he could have ended a marriage that wasn’t damaged to begin with.”  
“Do you think he ended it?”  
“No. I think he might have wanted to, but his reach only extended so far. You did, after all, do quite a good job of separating work from your family, or so I’m told.”  
Will raised his eyebrows. “By who?”  
“Oh,” Chilton fumbled for words. “Jack Crawford, and, you know, various… others.”  
Will scoffed. “Freddie fucking Lounds?”  
“Perhaps…? She’s been contacting me quite frequently since… everything.”  
“Really?”  
“Can you blame her? I do lend a certain _shock value_ to her articles—no, don’t say I don’t. I know I do. Honestly, it has come in handy several times. But, yes, she asked me about you occasionally. I got the impression that she was asking everyone about you.”  
Will bit angrily at a French fry. “I spent all that time trying to get away from Hannibal when I should have been trying to get away from Freddie.”  
“She would probably leave you alone if you agreed to an interview.”  
“Hmm. Maybe. She did call me last week. I’m sorry if she’s been bothering you about me. I don’t mean to get everyone caught up in my crap again.”  
“It’s really not a big deal,” Chilton assured. “I was going to talk to her, anyway. I wanted to refute some accusations made against my character. I also wanted people to stop calling me KFC.”  
Will paused, French fry halfway to his mouth. “What?”  
Chilton sighed and rolled his eyes. “‘Kentucky Fried Chilton.’ She had it printed on those t-shirts of me.”  
Will blinked once, then twice. “Am I allowed to laugh?”  
“Yes.”  
Will let out a loud guffaw, then descended into high-pitched giggles.  
A smile found its way onto Chilton’s face. It _was_ funny, after all. It was also nice to see Will distracted.  
“Wow,” Will breathed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Just—wow.”  
“Mm-hmm.”  
Will finished off his beer. “Mind if I get another one?”  
“Help yourself,” Chilton said with a wave of his hand.  
“Thanks. You know, it’s just—it’s so strange. I don’t feel any different, but there’s this huge legal difference in me today versus me yesterday.”  
“Do you think you’re still going to wear your ring?”  
Will shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I never wore it everyday, anyway. It got dangerous, sometimes, when I was out working on motors. I think I’ll keep it, though. I’ve got no hard feelings against Molly, despite what it may sound like. She’s a good woman and she did a good job as a wife. She just… I met her when I was—when I was _under the influence_ , so to speak, and I don’t think she ever really knew the real me. I think she did love me, and I think I loved her, but I think we both loved these images of each other. I loved her for what she gave me, but I never really wanted her to fully know me. I kept her at arm’s length because I was scared. We just… I feel like we were never _truly_ married, you know?”  
“I’ve heard that that is a common reason for divorce.”  
Will sighed. “Do you ever wish you could just marry dogs?”  
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Chilton said. “And called ‘bestiality.’”  
Will laughed. “And in my case, polygamy.”

At around eleven p.m., Chilton reluctantly turned in, citing work in the morning. Will sat in front of the television for another hour or so, then retired to the guest room, his pack of dogs following him.


	10. he'll want me to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> am i just projecting my entire self onto chilton???  
> yes.

Living with Will Graham was surprisingly easy.

It might not have been so smooth five years ago, but since then, they had both changed. Chilton had grown less spiteful and antagonistic, and Will had learned to let others into his routines.

It was actually quite nice to have someone else in the house.

Chilton cooked and Will did the dishes. They split other chores. Will was always eager to take the dogs for walks—even if, most times, he was accosted by Janet and her long conversation.

They spent the evenings sitting together in the sitting room. Sometimes Chilton would be working and Will would be preparing paperwork to start teaching again; sometimes they would both sit and watch _Jeopardy!_

Will was better than Chilton was at guessing the answers, but Chilton knew more of them for certain. When either one of them got it right, they let out an ugly, triumphant “Ha!” 

Chilton had had to lend Will some clothes that first week, since he hadn’t thought to bring anything from Wolf Trap besides the dogs. It was strange and oddly endearing to see Will in sweaters and slacks as opposed to his usual jeans and flannel combination. The smell of Chilton’s laundry detergent clung to them and Chilton tried very hard not to think about the fact that Will now smelled like him.

Well, besides his awful aftershave.

Chilton had turned his nose up at it the moment he saw it on the bathroom counter.  
“Is this yours?” He asked, holding the offending bottle up for Will to see.  
“Yeah. Sorry, is it in the way?”  
“No, but it stinks. You should really use something better.”  
Will scoffed. “Like what? Don’t they all smell the same?”  
“No? How—they don’t at all smell the same.”  
“Everything I’ve ever seen smells like that—the same vague _man-scent_ chemicals.”  
“That’s because you buy that at Walgreen’s. If you actually wanted something that smelled nice, you’d get it someplace better.”  
Will leaned against the door-frame and cocked an eyebrow. “And where’s that?”  
Chilton fought to keep his chin level as he said, “Well, for one, Sephora.”  
“The makeup store?” Will gawked.  
“Yes, the makeup store. They sell a variety of men’s cologne there, too.”  
“Wait, back up, you shop at Sephora?”  
“If you're trying to imply anything about my masculinity—“  
“—No, no, no, I just… Isn’t that place expensive?”  
“Not… really, no?”  
“I tried to buy Molly a hairbrush there and it was _forty dollars!_ For a hairbrush!”  
“Well, I don’t know much about hairbrushes but I know that they carry a variety of concealers and scar treatments.” Chilton gestured to the shelf in his bathroom that was covered in masks, oils, and creams.  
“Oh.”  
Chilton picked up a small glass bottle labelled simply ‘Jazz Club.’ He popped the lid off and handed it to Will.  
“I got this there, too. It was about—oh—hundred-thirty?”  
“Bit much,” Will said, sniffing the cologne. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I like that. Very attr—uh—very… um…”  
“Woody?” Chilton offered.  
“Yes. I like the…” He sniffed again. “Vanilla? Yeah. I like that.” He handed the bottle back to Chilton, who placed it back on the shelf.  
“Me too. You should try something different. Scent is very tied to memory.”  
“Hm. I suppose you’re right.” He offered Chilton a smile. “New beginnings, and all that.”

  
By the end of the week, Will drove back to Wolf Trap to get a bag or two of his things.   
“I don’t want to seem like I’m moving in here permanently,” Will told Chilton before he left.   
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re probably uncomfortable in my clothes,” Chilton said with a smile.  
Will hemmed and hawed and eventually broke down and said, “Yeah. I’ll be back before dinner.”

Chilton finished his appointments by noon and spent the afternoon doing laundry, Coco at his heels. She had shied away from Will’s dogs at first, but was slowly getting to be friendly with them. She was particularly fond of Buster and would curl around him on the hardwood floor. It made sense, Chilton thought privately, that Coco would cling to the dog who had been so grievously injured.

Knowing Will would probably be in a foul mood after his return to Wolf Trap, Chilton planned on having a pizza night. He didn’t really know what Will liked in terms of toppings, so he just put a variety: mushrooms, sweet peppers, olives, spinach, and onion. It was in the oven and just about done by the time Will walked through the door.

Will paused in the entryway and pressed his forehead against the door. Chilton pretended not to see.

After a moment, Will sighed and went into the kitchen.  
“How was work?” He asked.  
“The usual. Made some good progress with my bulimic patient. She’s been recognizing patterns that lead her to binge. She’s still quite high-level, but I’m hoping I can bring her to recognize the everyday triggers.”  
“I thought you worked in criminal psych?”  
 _Oh. Forgot I hadn’t mentioned that._  
“Not anymore. Strictly pedestrian mental illness for me. I left after… about five years ago.”  
Will nodded. “Do you like it?”  
“I do. It took a lot of re-education training, but the fundamentals are the same. You’re still helping people find the ‘why’ behind their ‘what.’ It’s also a lot more immediately rewarding. The average person makes ten times as many strides towards mental wellbeing as those in BSHCI. It’s nice to see them make progress.”  
“I bet. I’m almost jealous. I never really got to see what happened to any of my students at the Academy.”  
“I suppose that is every teacher’s thought.”  
“You’re probably right. That smells good. What is it? Pizza?”  
“Yes, but it’s vegan again, sorry.”  
“I really don’t mind vegan food, Fred.” Will smiled.  
Chilton forced himself not to dwell on the use of the nickname. It was only natural. It meant nothing.  
“Well, good, because that’s all you’re getting here.” He made to grab the pizza out of the oven but Will stopped him.  
“Here, let me. You can go sit down.”

Any remaining questions about whether Will would like the pizza were answered by the loud moan he made when he bit into a slice. He then made some unintelligible noise around the food in his mouth.  
“I have no idea what you just said.”  
Will swallowed. “Sorry. I said, ‘This is delicious.’”  
Chilton smiled. “Glad you like it.” He was curious about how Will’s trip to Wolf Trap had gone, but he didn’t want to pry.

After dinner, Will did the dishes. It started raining that soft, hazy rain that always made Chilton miss Boston and the Autumn leaves.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Chilton asked.  
“What did you have in mind?”  
“Whatever you want. I have a lot of DVDs.”  
“Not one for digital copies, huh?” Will teased.  
“I prefer to actually own things, thank you.”  
“What if they break?”  
“Then I’ll get a new one. Anyway, since when are you a fan of anything digital? If I recall correctly, you barely have Internet at your house.”  
Will’s smile stayed put, but his eyes drifted into the middle distance. “Well, I never liked Hannibal’s music. I think he would’ve thrown a fit if I asked for a CD of Johnny Cash. Plus, I don’t think he ever knew you could stream music on a smartphone.”  
Chilton snorted. “He really wasn’t half as intelligent as he claimed.”  
“No.”  
Will still seemed off, so Chilton offered something tangible.  
“Popcorn?”  
Will blinked, eyes snapping over to Chilton. “What?”  
“Do you like popcorn?”  
Will took a breath. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. Thanks.”  
“The DVDs are under the television, in that box. You can take a look and pick something out.” Chilton took out the air-popper and started pouring some kernels in.

“Is this any good?” Will asked, holding up a DVD case.  
“Which one is that?”  
“ _Moonstruck_.”  
Chilton gasped. “That one is amazing. We are definitely watching that. Have you never seen it?”  
“No.”  
“Oh, well let me tempt you. It has Cher and Nicolas Cage and it’s about this _very_ Italian family living in New York City. I _highly_ recommend it.”  
Will chuckled. “Well, if you recommend it, then I suppose it must be good.”  
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”  
“That I think you have good taste.”  
“Oh.” Chilton blinked, then frowned. “Really?”  
“Yeah.”  
Chilton turned back to the popcorn, then grinned.


	11. kalmia kid

The second week, Freddie Lounds called.

“Hello, this is Doctor Chilton.”  
“Hi Doctor, it’s Freddie again. Are you feeling better? Or, do you need another excuse?”  
“Why? Do you need a sick note?”  
“I want that interview you promised me. I haven’t been pestering Mr. Graham. You hold up your end.”  
“I never _promised_ anything,” Chilton corrected.   
“I have his number. I can talk to him right now.”  
Chilton looked over at where Will was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the funny pages.  
“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” he said.  
“Wonderful,” she purred. Chilton could hear her smiling. “Today’s Thursday. How about tomorrow? When do you get off work?”  
“My last appointment is at two-thirty. You can come by my office after that.”  
“Wonderful.”  
_Beep._

“An appointment?” Will asked when Chilton set his phone down.  
“Mm-hmm.”  
“Anything interesting?”  
Chilton hesitated for a half-second, then said, “No.”

Friday morning came and went. He had run out of coffee creamer and would have to pick some more up.

By the time Freddie showed up, Chilton had developed a small kink by his right shoulder blade. He was rubbing at it when she walked in, flamboyant in royal blue.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted, sitting across from him. “I’m thinking of titling this one ‘The Eleven Herbs and Spices’ so I hope you have eleven juicy tidbits prepared for me.”  
“I was rather hoping we could let that nickname die.”  
Freddie laughed. “Seriously? How about I’ll drop it when you give me the rights to ‘Hannibal the Cannibal.’”  
“Never going to happen,” Chilton said.  
“Then ‘Kentucky Fried Chilton’ stays.”  
They stared each other down. A minute passed, then two, until Chilton finally broke and rubbed at his left eye.  
“Well? Do you have any questions for me or am I just monologuing to you?”  
Freddie smiled. “I am so glad you asked.” She clicked on her tape recorder.  
“Since you got out of the group interview, I’m going to use what Mr. Zeller and Dr. Bloom said as the basis of my questions for you. Here’s a little recording from my session that day.”

Freddie recorded voice warbled through a second tape recorder.  
_“ ‘Have you heard anything from Mr. Graham since he returned to the States?’_  
_‘He came to visit me a week or so ago,’ Alana said. ‘He told me he was getting a divorce. I told him I didn't want to see him. That was that.’_  
_‘Now why would you say that? Unless, perhaps, you were concerned he would tempt you away from your marriage…?’_  
_A sigh. ‘I was concerned he still harbored feelings for me. I didn’t want to get involved. I’m happily married and I didn’t want my wife to get suspicious. There was no temptation on my part, I can assure you.’_  
_‘So, you believe that the person he visited right after he found out he was getting a divorce would, most likely, be someone he harbored feelings for? Is that right?’_  
_‘I suppose. It’s not unlikely, especially since Molly had found someone else after he had… well, when we thought he’d died.’_  
_‘So you believe that Will Graham is interested in starting a new relationship?’_  
_‘I would not be surprised if that were the case,’ Alana said slowly. ‘But I haven't talked to him enough to know for certain.’_  
_‘What if I told you that you were not the first person he visited, Doctor Bloom?’_  
_A pause. ‘Does that matter?’_  
_‘What if I told you that the first person he visited was Doctor Chilton?’_  
_Alana didn’t answer._  
_‘Does that change your assessment of Mr. Graham’s motivations, Doctor Bloom?’_  
_A sigh. ‘No.’”_

Chilton had listened to the recording with a sense of impending doom. Of course she had found a loophole. She would always find loopholes. He had said nothing about asking other people about him and Will Graham.

A familiar anger burned in the pit of his stomach. Will had said Doctor Bloom was trying to put everything Hannibal-related behind her. Was this not Hannibal-related? Why would she not even speak to Will Graham’s face, but would speak about him to Freddie Lounds? Did she really hate all of them that much?

“I’m surprised Doctor Bloom agreed to an interview,” Chilton said. “I was under the impression she was trying to put this whole… mess behind her.”  
“Well, she did make it difficult. She insisted on meeting with me one-on-one. I had to do Mr. Zeller’s interview separately.”

_Interesting. Is she avoiding men?_

Freddie played another excerpt.  
_“ ‘Have you heard anything from Mr. Graham since he returned to the States, Mr. Zeller? I know the two of you used to work together. Did he visit? Call?’_  
_‘Nope. He had to meet with Jack a couple of times to get everything sorted out but he really seemed to want to be left alone. I didn’t want to pressure him.’_  
_‘Don’t you think it’s a little odd that he wouldn’t visit?’_  
_‘Not really. I mean, the guy had to go leave his wife and kid to go chase after Hannibal. He probably wanted to spend time with his family. I mean, he was gone for three years.’_  
_‘Did you hear that he’s getting a divorce?’_  
_‘I’d heard it mentioned, but I didn’t know if it was true. Honestly, I don’t really keep up with the guy anymore. We haven’t worked together for almost five years.’_  
_‘You know,’ Freddie began. ‘I just find it interesting that instead of visiting you, the first person he visits to talk about his divorce is Doctor Chilton.’_  
_A pause. ‘I mean, he’s a psychiatrist.’_  
_‘And you were his friend,’ Freddie pressed._  
_'So was Doctor Chilton. Also, I have, like, no experience in divorce. I’m not even married. Anyway, I thought you wanted to talk about the—‘“_  
Freddie clicked the recording off.  
“Mr. Zeller was not as helpful.”

Chilton thanked his lucky stars for Brian Zeller.

“But, there is one thing I find interesting, Doctor Chilton,” Freddie said. “I’ve looked through your history and I can’t find a single time when you specialized or even studied family and relationship counseling. So, why would Will Graham come to _you_ to talk about his divorce?”  
“Sorry, Miss Lounds, but I thought we agreed I wouldn’t say any more on that topic.”  
Freddie smiled. “Can’t fault me for trying. Also, off-the-record—“  
“Your tape recorder is still running.”  
She huffed and turned it off.  
“ _Off_ -the record,” she repeated. “How do you think his ex-wife feels about him staying at your house?”

Chilton stopped at the grocery store on his way home. Unfortunately, they were out of caramel, so Chilton took a risk and got his second-favorite.

Saturday morning, Will opened the fridge and laughed.  
“You got pumpkin spice creamer?” He shot Chilton a fond smile.  
Chilton blushed, feeling defensive. “It _is_ October. If there’s any time I'm allowed to, it’s now.”  
“You know, you are nothing like Hannibal, either.”  
Chilton met Will’s gaze and felt a slight shift in the air. 

If Will poured a little too much creamer in their cups of coffee, well, Chilton wasn’t going to complain.


	12. i'd never walk cornelia street again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spooky scary skeletons feat. walter

By the end of the third week, Chilton realized something was wrong.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you decide that you would get weekend custody of Walter?”  
Will frowned down at his laptop, which was open on the kitchen table. “He doesn’t want to see me.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yeah, or at least that’s what he said last week. He—uh, well—we decided to let him have a say in it, since he’s sixteen now. I technically get the weekends but if he wants to stay with his mom, especially right now when it’s all—all _new_ —well. I don’t want to push him.”  
Chilton let the matter lie for about a minute, then cleared his throat casually.   
“You know,” he began. “Halloween is on Sunday.”  
“Is it?”  
“Yes.”  
“Oh.”  
“This is a very good neighborhood for trick-or-treating.”  
“Hm.”  
“Yes… Does he have a costume?”  
“What?”  
“Walter.”  
“What about him?”  
“Does he have a costume?” Chilton repeated. _Dear Lord, this is like talking to a brick wall._  
Will blinked. “I don’t know. I can ask. Wait… what do you mean?”  
Chilton sighed and placed his palms flat against the table. “Will, would Walter like to come here for Halloween? It might be easier to spend time with him, at least at first, if you had an activity to spur conversation. You could walk with him around the neighborhood. I could decorate the house. You two could watch a scary movie or something, if he likes that sort of thing.”  
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Will said. “It’s two days away. I don’t even know if he would want to… I just… You don’t have to.”  
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I enjoy decorating and it would be good for Walter to spend more time with you. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I only thought it might be nice to have a party.”  
Will smiled. “Yeah. I’ll call him and see.” He got up and dialed Walter’s number.  
In a few minutes, he came back looking pleased. “It took a bit of persuasion, but he said he’d come. Thank you so much for the idea. I was… well, I was a little worried he might not stop being mad at me.”  
“He is only sixteen, Will. Just because he _says_ he doesn’t want to see you doesn’t mean that’s the truth.”

They spent that afternoon gathering as many Halloween decorations as possible. Will tried to keep it simple with pumpkins and leaf garlands, but Chilton insisted on putting a few ghosts and skeletons into the mix.   
Chilton grinned when he saw a zombie mask near the bottom of a bin.  
“Bleeeuuurrggghh,” he groaned, reaching out a shaking hand.  
Will jumped straight up like a startled cat when Chilton’s hand touched his arm.   
“Holy shit, Frederick!” He hissed, mindful of the children in the next aisle. “You scared the crap outta me.”   
“I’m getting this,” Chilton said, taking the mask off.   
Will rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”  
“I’m a _genius_ , and wearing this to greet Walter.”  
Will groaned, but Chilton caught him smiling out of the corner of his eye.

Saturday was spent putting up decorations. Will managed to string his leaf garland above Chilton’s porch. The bushes were covered in fake spiderwebs. Chilton hung some ghosts up next to his hanging flower baskets.

After dinner, though, a stinging mixture of anxiety and excitement settled into Chilton. Would Walter like the party? Would Walter even like _him?_  
“It’s been ages since I’ve even _spoken_ to a teenager,” Chilton said. “I can’t imagine actually holding a conversation.”  
Will chuckled. “It’s not that hard, Fred. Walter likes dogs and, uh, dancing.”  
“Dancing? Is that what they do now?”  
“Yeah, it’s some weird crap that they put up on social media. Walter started doing it after I quit the FBI, since they wouldn’t let anyone in my household use those apps for security reasons. He tried to get Molly to do one and she busted her hip on the countertop. It’s a lot of…”  
Will made some jabby arm motions and tried gyrating his hips while still sitting in his chair. Chilton, with great effort, kept his face neutral.  
“Oh,” he said. “When I was sixteen, I was into skateboarding.”  
Will laughed. “Seriously?”  
“Yes, my mother hated it. I’d come back with scrapes all over my legs and arms and she’d have a fit. The irony of it is that I _did_ end up in a wheelchair, but not from that.”  
“Wow. No offense, but you really don’t come off as the skating type.”  
“I never really got into the culture of it, but it was something to do. All the boys in the neighborhood did it and I wanted to make friends.”  
“Did it work?”  
“No,” Chilton said shortly.   
“Hm. I tried a couple times, but I never could do it. I don’t think I have the coordination.”  
Chilton smiled. “I wish I could show you, but, alas…”  
Will smiled down at the table. “You are really full of surprises, Frederick.”

Will brought Walter over Sunday afternoon. Chilton was waiting for them on his porch in his zombie mask, angled so one of the bushes hid him almost entirely from sight.  
“Eueuurrggghhh,” he groaned, wheeling into view as the two came up the walk. “Welcome to the Chilton residence.”  
Walter sighed and rolled his eyes at Will, who had a dumb smile on his face.  
“Really, Will?” He huffed.  
“I don’t think he understands English, Walt. I think you have to talk Zombie to him.”  
“Do I have to?”  
“Come on, Walt. Be nice.”  
“Ugh. Fine. Helloooo,” Walter groaned.  
“Helloooo! Would you care to enterrrrrr?” Chilton groaned, gesturing towards the door.  
“We would love tooooo,” Will groaned.  
Coco and Will’s dogs all came rushing out when Chilton opened the door. Coco stayed near Chilton, though, suspicious of the newcomer.

Chilton tried to stay out of their way that afternoon. He stuck to his bedroom, reading and listening to the sounds of _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ wafting down the hallway. He’d offered his collection of horror movies to Will, so either Will didn’t like scary, or Walter didn’t. Chilton would take a wild guess and say it was Will who was the chicken. The man seemed as skittish as a rabbit under the lettuce patch.

They had pumpkin soup for dinner, to be seasonal. Walter seemed to like it.

He changed into his costume once it got dark. It was one of those Spiderman suits with fake foam muscles.

“Lookin’ good,” Will said, smiling. “You ready to go?”  
“Yep.”

The two said a quick goodbye to Chilton and the dogs, then left.

Chilton marinated in his complicated emotional state for a while. This had been a ridiculously domestic weekend. 

He got caught up remembering the exasperated smile on Will’s face as they had shopped for decorations. He remembered the faintest brush of his fingertips on Will’s forearm. He remembered Will’s eyes softening as he smiled and thanked Chilton for planning this. Chilton felt his throat get tight with emotion.

He really shouldn’t be doing this. It was abusing Will’s trust. He’d said, to Chilton’s face, that he had come here because he knew he wouldn’t be misunderstood as having romantic intent. Well, he hadn’t said _exactly_ that, but it was easy enough to read between the lines.

He’d placed so much trust in Chilton’s hands, and here Chilton was, messing it all up with useless feelings that had no place here.

Why had Will asked to stay here, to go to lunch, to even see Chilton if not because he knew Chilton was…

…not an option?

The man was going through a divorce, for goodness’ sake! He was trying to salvage his damaged relationship with his son. He had way too much on his plate to even think about any messy feelings Chilton might have for him.

Chilton felt his hand nudged by Coco. Somehow, she could always tell when he was feeling upset. He let her put her head in his lap, and scratched behind her ears. 

Perhaps he should just listen to Will’s own advice and just marry a dog…

At least there would be less heartache.

After about an hour and a half, Will and Walter came back with a bag full of candy. Will drove him back to Wolf Trap and only got back to Chilton’s place around 11 p.m.

Chilton was already in bed, but was awake. He heard Will come in, shut the door, and take his shoes off. He heard him walk down the hall. He saw him open Chilton’s bedroom door a crack and stick his head through.

“Thank you, Frederick,” Will said.   
Chilton smiled awkwardly, his denture out for the night. He kept his good side angled towards Will.  
“You’re welcome.”


	13. take these broken wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the kids aren't alright

By the fourth week, Chilton realized he may have been a little hasty in his judgment of Will’s mental state.

Tuesday, November 2nd, Chilton woke at 4:43 a.m. to an eerie silence. Coco, who usually slept either on Chilton’s bed or beside it, was nowhere to be seen.

Chilton slid quietly into his chair and made his way to the hallway. The bathroom door was closed.

“Will?” He whispered into the cool night air. He could feel acutely the tip of his nose.

Receiving no answer, Chilton peeked into Will’s—the guest bedroom. It was empty.

He carefully turned the knob on the bathroom door. He heard several dogs’ nails scrape on the tile floor.

“Will?”

Sitting curled up in the bathtub, surrounded by dogs both in and out of the tub, was Will Graham. His hands were buried in dog fur, repetitively making little petting motions. Even through his clothes, Chilton could tell his muscles were in a bunch. 

“Will, are you alright?”

Chilton went to his side. Will’s eyes were dull, unfocused. His bottom lip was quivering.

Chilton sighed. At least this was familiar.

“Will, you’re okay. It’s… it’s four forty-nine in the morning. You’re in Annapolis, Maryland. We’re—we’re safe. Would you like to talk?”

Will shook his head.

“Was it a nightmare?” Chilton asked.

Will nodded.

“I get them too. Does your chest feel tight? Is this more extreme than you’re used to?”

He shook his head.

“Hey, Will,” Chilton asked softly. “Is the dog fur soft?”  
“Yes,” Will said tightly.  
“Which dogs are you petting?”  
Will’s eyes flicked down. “Winston and Buddy.”  
“Is the air cool?”  
“Yes.”  
“What about the dogs? Are they warm?”  
“Yes.”

Buddy took that moment to lick at Will’s jaw. Will’s face twitched between a smile and a grimace as he held back tears. Eventually, the floods were too much and Will’s eyes welled up. He took a shaky breath.

“It’s cold,” Will said.  
“It is. Although, you probably should be wearing more than a t-shirt. It’s November.”  
Will gave him a watery smile, then buried his face in Winston’s fur.

“Hannibal is dead,” he said, voice muffled.  
“Hannibal is dead,” Chilton repeated.  
“I’m not dead.”  
“No, you’re not.”  
“Neither are you.”  
“No. It seems to be very hard to kill me. Three people have tried, already, and I’m still here.”  
Will chuckled. “I like you alive.”  
Something about that simple phrase hit Chilton right in the self-loathing.  
“I like _you_ alive,” he replied.

After a moment or two, Will lifted his face and rubbed at his eyes. The color had returned to his skin, no doubt helped on by his tears. He seemed loose and natural, though, so Chilton allowed himself relief.

Chilton opened the door to the bathtub.  
“You should try and get some sleep,” he said.  
Caught up in the moment, he nearly opened his arms to Will. The dogs rushed forward out of the tub, though, and stopped him from making a fool of himself.  
Will smiled at him. “I’ll try.”

Chilton dragged himself back to bed—5 a.m.—and fell asleep for an unsatisfying two hours. His alarm went off and he could feel a headache starting behind his eyes.

Will was still sleeping by the time he left for work.

The morning passed and Chilton’s headache grew stronger. He got a watery cup of coffee from the lobby and stirred in a packet of sugar with a little plastic straw. The sky was grey and did nothing to help his fatigue.

By the time his last appointment finished, Chilton’s fatigue had morphed and grown into a general miserable mood. His back was hurting and he wasn’t in the mood to cook dinner tonight.

On the way home, he stopped by the state store and picked up a bottle of cheap wine. If he was going to cry in the bathtub, he had better be genuine about it. He still had to clean the bathtub, he remembered with dread. It was probably covered in dog hair from this morning.

He pulled his car into the driveway and felt a new pang of hatred for the vehicle. He carefully set the bottle of wine across his lap and wheeled up to the door.

Inside, he was greeted by the dogs and the smell of lentils.

“I’m home,” he called out.  
Will emerged from the kitchen. The pink was in his cheeks and he had a little smile on his face.  
“I made dinner. I don’t know if it’s any good, but I figured… well, you’ll have to try it.”

And just like that, Chilton felt the last of his common sense leave.

“You made dinner?” He repeated dumbly.  
“Yeah. My dad used to make lentils sometimes, so I tried his recipe. I also made some rice and some carrots. It’s not much, but it’s hot and it’s done, so if you’d like, you can come sit down. I can take your things?”  
Chilton blinked. “Oh, thank you. Yes, if you wouldn’t mind…? You can just set that bag on my bed. I’ll go through it later. I’ll take the wine. We can have it with dinner.”  
Will slid the briefcase from Chilton’s shoulder and went to put it away. Chilton washed his hands then sat at the table.

A golden feeling was blooming and spreading out to his fingertips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been taken care of like this, outside of a hospital.

The food was good, if a little under-spiced. To Chilton, though, it was the best meal he’d ever had.

He had to keep himself from simply gazing adoringly at Will, and fixed his gaze firmly on the glass of wine before him.

“How was your day?” Will asked.  
“Alright. Nothing very exciting. I was thinking of taking a bath later. What about you? Have you heard from Quantico, yet?”  
“Yes, I got a call that they want me to interview again on Friday. I have to jump through some hurdles, but they said it’s almost certainly a yes.”  
“Well, that’s great,” Chilton said, but didn’t mean it. He was, of course, happy that Will was able to get work again, but him working at Quantico meant he would be moving.  
“Yeah. I’m excited to work again. I feel pretty useless just sitting around here all day.”  
“Well, you’re not completely useless.” Chilton smiled. “You’re not half bad at cooking.”  
Will rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Chilton was so, so lost.


	14. but, who could stay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heavy on the pining and self-loathing

Friday came and Chilton was stuck in a bad mood. He had tried to savor these past days, remembering little details (Will’s dusty shoes by the door, the tangle of dogs that always seemed to block whatever doorway he was angling towards, the ghost of Will’s hand-print on the kitchen table that stayed warm for a second or two).

His stomach was in knots all day. He even caught himself losing concentration during an appointment: his eyes fixed on his notes, but the words dissolving into meaningless squiggles.

Driving home, he had the terrifying thought that Will might have left while he was gone.

The river of dogs that poured out to meet him let him know that was not the case.

“How was your interview?” Chilton asked when he spotted Will sitting in the living room. “Did it go well?”  
Will smiled wide. “It did. I’m starting the Winter semester, so I have some weeks to prepare material before class begins.”  
“Good, good.” _And now you’re leaving me._  
“Yeah, I’m happy about it. I like teaching. I like to think I’m good at it.”  
“I’m sure you are. And this calls for a celebration. Would you like to go out for dinner tonight? You can pick.”  
“Sure, what time is it even? I lost track.”  
“Half past four,” Chilton said. “How about we leave in an hour? I have a few things to take care of still.”

Alone in his bedroom, unzipping his briefcase, Chilton felt his heart beat like an ominous 80s synth track. His stupid little wish for company every day since he’d turned thirty had finally been answered, and now it was going to be taken away. He’d known this was coming. This was always a temporary arrangement. (He was always a temporary arrangement.)

He shrugged off his sport coat and put it in the closet, swapping it for a thick, collared sweater. Knowing Will, he wouldn’t pick anywhere that required dressing up.

And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He’d gotten to _know_ Will, and that’s what made it worse. Five years ago, Will had been a mystery, a list of symptoms, a pretty face and an alluring voice. Chilton had certainly been attracted to him, but he hadn’t seen all of him—his doubts, his panic, his secret ticks that kept him running. These four weeks had been an exercise in dropping assumptions and learning to simply care for another human being.

Chilton took a steadying breath in front of the mirror, then felt a sudden kinship to Dolarhyde in the urge to smash the glass. He didn’t want to see his weak eyes staring back at him, full of insecurity and prejudice and the knowledge of every time he’d been too useless to count.

He was clinging to Will like a leech. The man deserved better and they all knew it.

_Who was he to think himself deserving of any of this?_

His heart in his throat, Chilton went through emails robotically. Names and information blurred, creating a general sense of obligation and stress that settled halfway between his shoulder and neck. 

He imagined Will—perhaps a different time, or a different Will, or a different _him_ —pushing the bedroom door open, walking up behind him and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. He imagined Will’s square hands cradling his shoulders, rubbing the knots out of his sore muscles. He imagined himself turning malleable under Will, physically and emotionally. Will might press against him, or ask him for anything, and he would comply. He could already withhold nothing.

The door creaked open. Chilton turned to see Winston walk over and flop onto Coco’s doggie bed. 

The crown of his head felt particularly cold.

By five-thirty, Chilton had plastered a pleasant if bland smile on his face.   
“Shall we?”

Will followed him out to the car. “I was thinking of that Soul place you mentioned. Do you mind? I checked the menu and they have vegan options.”  
“Sure. I’ve heard it’s very good.”

The food _was_ good, even the loaded salad that Chilton ordered. Will was extremely pleased with the po’ boy he got.

“This is great,” he said, smiling, “but it’s nothing like what I used to get in Louisiana with my dad. The seedy little places with one waitress were always the best.”  
“Well, hopefully you can go back sometime,” Chilton replied.  
Will nodded. “I should take you. I bet you’ve never had real southern food. Where did you even grow up?”  
“Outside of Boston. I know, I don’t sound like it. I dropped the accent as soon as I could. It still comes back, though, when I visit my mother there.”  
Will chuckled. “I’ve never been. I’ve heard it’s beautiful this time of year.”  
Chilton smiled, thinking of the specific shades of orange he could never find anywhere else.   
“It really is,” he said.  
They ate quietly for a minute or two. Then, Will broke the silence with a question.  
“Do you visit your mother often?”  
“Not as often as I should. I haven’t since… since the beginning of October, I think. Usually, I try to go every couple of weeks.”  
“You should go up again,” Will said with a softness around his eyes. “I’m sure she misses you.”  
Chilton rolled his eyes. “What, and leave you to drink all my wine? No thanks. Very slick, though, your plan.” 

It was a reckless line, but Chilton tossed it all the same. It gave Will the perfect opportunity to say, ‘I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.’

“I wouldn’t drink all of it,” Will teased. “Besides, I could come with you. We could even bring Walter.”

Chilton felt the ground fall away.

“The flight is a bit long,” he said apologetically. “It’s about six hours, give or take.”  
“Is she nice?”  
“What?”  
“Your mother. What’s she like?”  
“Um.” Chilton considered. “She’s nice. She’s a bit strict. She likes soap operas.”  
Will smiled. “I never knew my mother. It was just me and dad.”  
“Well, my father was an asshole. Hate to say it, but I’m glad he’s dead.”  
“I’ll drink to that.”  
They clinked glasses.

On the drive home, Chilton asked the question that had been plaguing him all evening.  
“Do you really want to visit my mother?”  
Will glanced at him. “Yeah. I think it’d be fun.”  
“And you don’t just want to meet her to learn more about me for some sort of profile?”  
Will laughed. “If I was profiling you, Frederick, I wouldn’t ask to fly six hours to go visit your mother. I’d get someone else to do it.”  
Chilton blushed in the dark. “Well—I—“  
“I don’t have to come along if you don’t want me to. I just… I don't know. I’ve never been to Boston.”  
Chilton knew he didn’t have the self-control to tell Will not to come.   
“No,” he said. “Of course you can come, if you want. Hell, my mother might appreciate the extra company. I know she gets bored with me, anymore.”  
“Well, what about next weekend?”  
“Sure. And Walter’s welcome to come, too, if he wants to.”  
“I’ll check with Molly.”

Chilton lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling. 

Will hadn’t left.


	15. here comes the rain again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all are gonna hate me so much i'm sorry

Four days before they were set to leave for Boston, Will told Chilton he wanted to get a tattoo.

“Of what?” Chilton asked, not knowing what else to say. He knew practically nothing about tattoos, having never gotten any due to his embarrassing fear of needles.  
Will sighed. “I don’t know. Anything.”  
“Well, you shouldn’t get one just to get one. You should wait until you’re sure.”  
“What do _you_ want me to get?”  
Chilton blinked. “I… want you to get the tattoo that you want most. Other than that, I have no opinion.”  
“Hm.”  
And that was that.

Three days before they left, Chilton caught Will about to shave his head.

“Will, what are you doing?”  
Will was holding the dog-hair clippers almost to his head. “I don’t know. I wanted a change.”  
“You realize you can go to a barber, right? They do exist. You don’t always have to cut your own hair.”  
Will flicked his eyes over to Chilton. “What if I asked them to shave my head?”  
“Then you’d come out looking like a cue ball,” Chilton said.  
“Would you mind?”  
Chilton frowned. “No. It’s your hair. Though, I would appreciate if you would sweep up after yourself, if you’re doing it here.”  
“Do you think I’d look ugly?”  
“Will, do you even _want_ to shave your head? I’m not trying to stop you, but you seem to be acting a little hastily here. Yesterday, you wanted a tattoo and now you want to shave your head? You might want to find something a little less drastic to change before committing to something like that.”  
“Like what?”  
“Well…” Chilton’s eyes drifted around the bathroom, then caught on Will’s almost-empty bottle of awful aftershave. “You did say you might want a new cologne. That’s a change. Do you want to go out and get one? I could come with you.”  
Will smiled. “Sure.”  
Chilton mirrored his smile, but felt unsure. What was up with him?

They went out shopping that afternoon and picked up a new bottle of cologne for Will, this one about eighty dollars more expensive than Will’s usual one. This one was more woodsy, with notes of pine and gunpowder. Will had held it under Chilton’s nose, watching his reaction with steady eyes.  
Chilton had smiled and nodded. It _was_ an attractive scent. He’d expressed his approval and they’d bought it and left.

Chilton lay awake for some time that night. Was Will on the verge of becoming self-destructive? He seemed to be attaching himself quite firmly to Chilton and Chilton’s opinion. Perhaps he should talk to Will.

But, the next morning, Will seemed back to normal. He was pleasant, smiley, and spent most of the day on his laptop going through PDFs. Chilton let the whole thing slide. If it came up again, he’d say something, but he didn’t want to shake this delicate balance he had with Will.

Then, finally, it was Friday afternoon and they were boarding a plane to Boston. Chilton sat in the aisle seat, his chair with the luggage in the cargo department. Will spent much of the time either staring wordlessly out the window or drifting off to sleep. Chilton may or may not have left his shoulder at a convenient height.

Chilton’s mother beamed at the two of them as she opened her door, despite the late hour.  
“Frederick! Hello! And you must be Will?” She shook Will’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come in, come in! You can leave your shoes at the door.”  
The two were bustled into the apartment.  
“I only have the one guest bedroom, but it’s got two beds, if you don’t mind. There’s always the couch, if you want it, though,” Mrs. Chilton said, gesturing down the hall.   
“I don’t mind,” Will said. “I’ve shared rooms before.”

Mrs. Chilton gave them a quick dinner of sandwiches then sent them off to bed. 

Chilton tried not to dwell on the fact that he was sharing a room with Will. It wasn’t _that_ strange, after all. They were in separate beds and it’s not as if they were changing in front of each other. (Not that Chilton would stare if they were. He wasn’t a creep.)

Still, it was hard to fall asleep when Will Graham’s beautiful face was only about six feet away from his own.

He woke early, unused as he was to that bed. His mother, also an early riser, had already put the coffee on.

“It’s been so long,” she said, over toast, “how have you been? Any news? I saw you gave an interview to that nasty woman.”  
Chilton smiled. “Yes, she wouldn’t leave me alone. I think she’s just bitter that I wrote a better book than she did.”  
“That you did! Remember how I gave a copy of it to Deborah? She just finished it two weeks ago and she told me it was one of her favorites.”  
“Good, good.” Chilton sipped at his coffee. “How have you been? Still not sleeping well?”  
“Oh, you know how it is. You have one good night, one bad night. I manage.”

Once Will woke up, Mrs. Chilton, much to her son’s chagrin, took out some old photo albums.

“Mom, really,” Chilton huffed. “He doesn’t need to see those.”  
“You never bring friends over. Just this once, let me embarrass you.”  
Chilton sighed. Secretly, in the deepest, darkest corner of his heart, he didn’t mind. There was some part of him that longed to show Will his past, his memories. He wondered whether Will would like it, too.

They flipped through Chilton’s baby pictures up through high school with Will only laughing three times, which Chilton counted a success. There weren't as many pictures from his undergraduate years, since he’d moved away. One, though, caught Will’s eye just as Chilton’s mother stepped out onto the balcony to catch a smoke.

“Who’s that?” He asked, pointing to a photo of Chilton at his college graduation, arm slung jauntily around a tall blond man’s waist.  
“Hm?” Chilton looked down at the book. “Wow, I haven’t seen that in ages. That’s my old college boyfriend. He, uh… he was pretty boring, to be frank.”  
“Wait… you’re gay?” 

Chilton looked up from the photo album to see Will staring at him incredulously. 

_How the hell had Will missed that?_

“Uh… yeah? I’ve been publicly out for—what?—twenty years?”  
“What? Really?”  
“Um… yes?”  
Will’s face fell. “Oh…”  
Chilton clenched his jaw. First of all, how on _earth_ had Will not noticed? Not heard? He certainly wasn’t hiding it. Christ, he’d seen Chilton’s record collection. Second, what gave Will the right to look so disappointed? Chilton could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, going over every interaction the two of them had ever shared. Had Will seriously thought that Chilton was just… he didn’t even know what to call it. Was he going to run for the hills now, screaming to the world that, sure, he’d lived with a gay man for a month now, but no! He wasn’t gay!  
Chilton sighed. “I’m not going to apologize to you. It’s common knowledge. _You_ were the one who asked to stay with me. If you’re so concerned about things like that, then maybe you should do even the most rudimentary research on someone before asking to _live with them_.”  
Will rubbed at his forehead. “I’m sorry.”  
“I’m not going to say you’re forgiven. I will say I’m surprised, though. I suppose it’s fine unless it happens to touch you, huh?”  
“What?”  
“You seemed fine with Doctor and Mrs. Bloom-Verger. But then, that probably turned you on,” Chilton spat. 

How could Will do this to him? How could he be so thoughtless and outright cruel? What right did he have to toss every kind of signal Chilton’s way, then as soon as there’s the possibility of reciprocation, to run?

Will’s jaw hung open. “What are you talking about? I don’t have any problem with the fact that you’re _gay,_ Doctor Chilton, I was apologizing for apparently leading you on.”  
“I don’t see how that’s any better.”  
Will got up and turned to stare out the window, hands shoved in his pockets.   
“I was testing you,” he said quietly.  
“For _what?_ What kind of game are you playing?” Chilton felt a cold ball of fear settle in his gut. “Is this about Hannibal?”  
Will sighed. “Yes and no. I didn’t trust you, when I called you, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I already knew Alana wouldn’t want to talk to me, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go crawling to _Jack_. I didn't have any friends—haven’t since I got back from Cuba. I thought, maybe there’s this slight chance that Doctor Chilton won’t immediately throw me out on my ass, like everyone around me has been doing for the past five fucking years. So yes, I called you. At that point, I didn’t know if Molly wanted me out of the house immediately. I didn’t know how angry she would get. I also figured you might know some good _lawyers_.”  
Chilton narrowed his eyes.   
“And then,” Will continued, “you invited me to your house. It was totally different—you were totally different than I had remembered. It… it smelled _fishy_. I didn’t know what you were playing at. I didn’t want to show my cards until I was sure. So I baited you. And then, you did exactly what I expected.”  
“Which was?”  
Will shrugged. “You were welcoming. You were friendly. You were never swayed from your goal. What was it you said? The psychopath’s triumvirate: charm, focus, and ruthlessness.”

“Because I _liked_ you!” Chilton cried out. “So sue me! Heaven forbid I actually _get what I want_ , ever!”  
Will’s shoulders sagged. “I know. And I’m sorry. I thought you were trying to manipulate me, like Hannibal did. He…he did the exact same thing, sometimes. I thought he—that he was attracted to me, and perhaps he was, but it was mostly for control. And then, there you are, being genuine, and I got it all mixed up. I’m sorry.”  
Chilton put his face in his hands. How could this get any worse? Will had been confusing these past months, but it had always been in a positive way, at least. Now, though…he didn’t know whether he could forgive Will.  
He took a steadying breath.  
“I need you to leave. You can come with me back to Maryland, but _so help me God_ you are not staying another night in that house.”  
Without waiting for a reply, Chilton left the room, heading down the hallway and out of the apartment. He needed some air.


	16. falling from above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the big sad

The flight back to Maryland was tense.

Chilton’s mother had noticed something was off between them and took them out to dinner to try and boost their spirits. It didn’t work.

Will had the gall to look like a kicked dog the whole time. Chilton pointedly ignored him.

By the time they were saying their goodbyes, Chilton had regained enough common sense to apologize to his mother. He let Will walk down to the taxi first and pulled his mother aside.  
“I’m sorry for this mess. He—he’s been getting through a divorce. He’s not himself these days. I’m sorry if we ruined the visit for you.”  
“Oh, don’t worry about it, honey. I’m glad I got to see you,” she said, leaning down to hug him. “I love you.”  
Chilton smiled. “I love you, too. See you later.”  
“Call me!”

Sitting on that plane, helpless to storm out, Chilton felt a familiar acid rising up his throat. What was so wrong with him that he deserved this? What had he possibly done to Will to merit this sort of treatment?

Then, a paralyzing thought…

_Had Will wanted him to get burned this whole time?_

Will was quick with collecting his things from Chilton’s house. He’d never actually brought all of his stuff over, so it only took two suitcases to carry all of his things, minus the dogs. He was gone by 7 p.m.

Chilton sat on his couch and tried to forget the smell of Will’s old aftershave clinging to the fabric. It was a stupid, cliché thought, but maybe he really was too broken for love.

He looked at his phone for a while. He debated calling up Freddie Lounds and telling her all the juicy details, dragging Will’s reputation through the mud. He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had arisen, though. He was getting too old for this.

Coco came over and put her head in his lap.  
“Hey, girl,” he cooed. “How did Janet treat you this weekend?”  
She nuzzled her head under his palm.

Chilton sighed. “At least I have you.”


End file.
